The Assassin & the Maid
by eleonorejune
Summary: "He let out another cigar puff, letting it roam around her face." Mr. Wayland, the owner of an assassin corporation, finds himself in need of a new maid. Clary Fray, urgently in need of a job, finds herself stuck with him. Many things can happen in the manor. Will they both get what they expected? Rated M. ::AU/Slight OOC/All Human:: LEMONS.
1. A Few Black Boxes

**DISCLAIMER:**

I wrote this a LONG time ago, when I wasn't very sure about my writing. The first few chapters are not my best work, but please continue on to the more recent ones that are written well. Thank you, and happy reading (:

* * *

A new story plot was tugging at my mind! I hope you enjoy.

 **Chapter 1:**

 _A Few Black Boxes_

The man dropped the big, paper filled beige folder onto the dark wood desk.

"He's been taken care of, Mr. Wayland," he said, setting his long, muscular arms back towards his sides, standing as straight as a stick. Jace propped his long longs onto his desk, leaning backwards in the big leather chair. He drew out the cigar and let a big puff of smoke cover his face.

"That's good," he responded, nodding approvingly. He opened the portfolio with his free hand, glancing over the dozens of photos of the man he had sent his men off to kill. He closed it, using one finger to push the paper cover over. "On a more serious matter, you said you had something to tell me?"

He leaned back, arms lazily propped on the sides of his chair, waiting for an answer. The other man nodded. He passed him yet another portfolio onto the desk.

"You had asked for a new maid, for the manor." He crossed his arms, looking at it. "Clarissa Morgenstern. 23. Medium experience. Doesn't know who she's working for, yet. And fairly attractive, if I do say so myself, sir." He watched his boss slide his fingers down the images of a redhead, with emerald green eyes. She had freckles light covered her pale face, adding to her look.

"Mhm. Call her up as soon as you can," he said, taking the girl's résumé into his hands. "I'll expect her tonight, six o'clock. Oh, and be sure to do the background check," he added.

"Yes, sir."

"Thank you, Dominic." His boss watched as the big man stepped out the office of the old manor, closing the door quietly behind him. Let's hope the maid wouldn't be too much trouble.

Two men stood in front of the pool room, making sure Jace Wayland was safe. Of course, with a job like his, the risks were huge. Running a sneaky assassin company can sure have its downs.

He watched as Sebastian's pool stick pushed the white ball, hitting the red one with a quiet thud. He lifted his stick back up, standing triumphant as well.

As it was his turn, Jace bent down over the pool table, extending his long arm across the green fabric. He pushed lightly, and the white ball bumped into two, making them both fall into their holes.

He stood up, putting the stick back on its stand.

"Sorry, Brother, but I had a new maid to attend," he walked towards the glass case over all his books and trophies. He readjusted his tie nicely, flattening it down with a swipe of his hand. "Maybe we could finish this another night, perhaps?"

Sebastian nodded, putting away his stick right next to his brother's.

Jace took off his suit jacket, making sure to show off his muscles through the slightly transparent white button down.

If he was going to make an impression, he was going to make a _damn_ good one.

He rolled up the white sleeves a bit, being sure to flash a huge part of his very muscular forearm, flexing at the touch. He nodded at his reflection.

He passed a hand through his gold hair for a final touch. He walked past the two guards, his stride confident.

He settled into his office, propping his legs back up onto the desk. He glanced through the redheads portfolio, gazing at his agents' "scoop" on her.

 _Single._

 _No family remaining - father and mother died 7 years ago. No siblings on record._

 _Frequently spotted at the Pandemonium night club._

He liked a girl that could party. A single girl that could party. Hopefully it wouldn't end like it did with his old maid, Aline, who he had had a _slightly_ sexual relationship with.

He sighed, and suddenly heard the two big wooden entrance doors creaking open and a small, smooth voice muttered "Thank you". He heard a knock on his office door.

"Come in," he called. He put the folders lingering on his desk top into his desk drawers. He looked up. The real version was _certainly_ more attractive.

A small, thin girl stood in front of his desk, her red hair flowing down from a high pony tail resting on her head. Rogue curls and strands squared her face, dripping down like tears of blood. Her figure was squeezed into a dark green mid-thigh dress, stopping at her elbows, and crowned with a slight v-cut. Pale skin flowed down her body like moonlight, giving her an ethereal sparkle. Her thin, but perfectly toned and shaped legs were covered with black tights. Black heels slipped onto her feet.

What was most surprising though, was her small emerald green eyes. The way they sparked in interest just by looking at him. The way they spelled out _mysterious_ for him.

"Mr. Wayland?" She asked, her smooth, light voice filling the room despite her quiet noise level. "Clarissa, or Clary, Morgenstern." She extended out a small hand towards him. He's shook it, taking in the warmth her body spread.

He scanned her up and down. "So you're the delightful redhead they speak of," he said, grinning at her with the most womanizer charm.

"Glad you feel that way, sir," she responded, still smiling like nothing had affected her.

"So, the job. You seem quite qualified."

"I aim the please, sir."

"Mhmm. Good. As you see, this is a very old and expensive manor. I expect you to treat it as your diamond, delicate and very special." She nodded. "I also expect you to respect me as your boss." Another nod. "As for your lodging, I had it be arranged that you stay here overnight, with your own room. It is right next door to mine, and I would be glad for a quiet atmosphere before I slip into bed.

"House rules. I do not mean to sound like your father in any way, but please do not bring anyone back for the night. If you are to go clubbing, I expect you staying at your partners house. No loud sounds before 6 A.M. You will also be in charge as the chef, as I have seen your culinary experience. If you have any questions, I would be delighted to answer now." Once he had finished his droning on, he sat relaxed, waiting. "Your pay check will arrive every Sunday, around 130 per day, depending on your behavior. Your uniform will arrive tonight. If you are in need for a car, ask anyone in the house, and they'll get one to you right away. No need for groceries, it's covered. Enjoy."

She stood there, wide-eyed, as if she had just seen an alien. Should he have given her more? "Wow," she breathed. She suddenly perked up, standing straight, probably hopping to look professional. "Do you have any preferences on cuisine or how you would like your house cleaned, sir?"

He shook his head. "A manual will arrive with your uniform, specifically telling you what to do. Is that alright?"

"Yes, sir."

"I would bring you to your room, but I have work to do. You may cook the meal for tonight, as well." He brought his attention back to his work, opening folders, scattering papers along his desk, observing them.

"Definitely." With that, she walked out, the click-clack of her pumps following her. She seemed more then okay.

.w.W.w.

All that Mr. Wayland had just told her ran through her head. Wow. This was luxurious as hell. As

She let one of the butlers, she assumed, lead her up a big, round, red carpeted staircase to her room. He stood to the side and opened it.

Oh my damn.

A huge, circular room lay right in front of her, lit by the shining chandelier hanging from one of the high ceilings. All the way to the back was a grand four-poster bed, crimson red fabric running down the top and the sides. The same shade of red carpet was laid out perfectly on the floor, black, swirly patterns running all over it.

Over to her right was a big, white vanity with a red wood, oval mirror staring back at her. A fluffy stool made of velvet or silk stood in front of it. To her left, was a long, round couch, forming a sort of U around a black coffee table. Paintings and black floral designs floated around her red walls.

This was spectacular.

By the time she was finished gawking at her room, the butler was gone. She set her hand bag down onto a small dark wood table close to the door, taking it all in.

Then she suddenly remembered. She had left all her clothes at Pangborn's house before he cheated on her with this skank, and she had no intention of going back and getting them. Besides, her whole closet probably didn't even cost as much as the black velvet pillow, laying on her bed.

She quickly walked down the stairway, sliding her hand down the wide polished wood railing as she stepped down it. She made her way down to Mr. Wayland's office, knocking quietly. She heard a grunt, taking it as a sign she could come in. She slid in slowly.

"Sorry to bother you, sir-" she started before he cut her off.

"It's fine, but hurry up, I have work to do," he said, still looking and working on his papers. "Now, what's the issue?"

"Uh... Well, I don't exactly have any clothes. I'll have nothing to wear," She muttered, looking at her feet.

"My fondest wish," he said, his voice low. He glanced up at her, smirking sexily. "Anyways, we filled your closet with clothes appropriate for this job. Of course, we had a woman pick out the rest. We guessed your size," he said, shrugging. He shuffled papers back into a beige folder. "If you need anything else, you're welcome to ask the staff. I am very busy, lately."

"Okay," she said, smiling. "Thank you, sir."

"Good luck, Clarissa." He said her name so perfectly, like the word rolled off his tongue, enhancing it even more past his full, pink lips. He smiled one more time before glancing back down at his work.

She walked out, closing the door almost soundlessly. She hurried up to her room, excited to see what clothes would appear in her closet. She almost ran to it, practically tripping in her heels.

She grabbed the wooden handles and yanked the door open.

Dresses on dresses hung neatly across the walk-in closet. Long, blue dresses, short black ones. A whole variety. Over to the right was the skirt section. Mostly black, white, red and gold. A dark brown leather one caught her eye. Mm. That was her thing.

Over to the left, she spotted the tops. Deep v-necks to thick turtle necks laid assorted on the shelves. A couple of pants sat neatly folded beneath them. Just below that, lay a small black box. She looked closer.

It was tucked in the shelves. Without resisting temptation, she opened it. Black lace, cheetah print and red silk all touched her hand as she dug deeper. Underwear varying from innocent to skank were all thrown in. She peeked at the similar box neighbor to it. Bras. It was expected.

She threw herself on her bed, sinking deeply into the mattress, the fluffy surface almost swallowing her full.

She was exhausted.

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

Like it? Hate it? Lemme know! My uploading glitched lots, so if you find a mistake, please let me know! Thanks for reading!

 _Drop me a review?_


	2. Salmon and Wine Bottles

❤️My dear readers❤️,

Thank you to all who reviewed, favorited, or followed the story! It means so much to me!

Review Answers: **mkxoxosmileyface** – Thank you for reviewing! I will work on the practical parts, and I edited the last chapter. It helps a lot to have feedback! Now, to the next chapter!

ALSO: This chapter, there will be a lot of writing from the "Manual", so don't get mad please! I'll certainly have more sort-of-Jace POV in later chapters. But for now, here's a bit more Clary then Jace.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Only the plot and the story itself. Please to not plagiarize my material.

 **Chapter 2:**

 _Salmon and Wine Bottles_

Jace watched as the printer slipped out pictures and texts about the man they had been hunting down. The quiet _beep beep_ clouded into the open study. He grabbed a beige portfolio off from the pile in one of his wooden drawers. Drawing it shut, he strode over to the loud machine, grabbing the warm papers into his hands.

He settled back into his chair, slipping the stack of papers in the folder in a quick motion. He glanced at the old, wooden grandfather clock in the far right side of the room. Six o'clock.

The wind outside had died down, now just silently whistling while the breeze flew down the streets. The big window on the farthest side of the room, across from his desk, was slightly opened, releasing a small chill into the room. Jace stepped towards it, setting his hands on the spruce window handles. He looked outside. The sky had darkened a big deal, and the sun was slowly setting as darkness threw its black cape over the atmosphere.

He closed the window with a final yank, feeling the last gust of wind. He gazed at his reflection in the window. _Look sharp._

He stepped out of his office, making his way to the parlor, hoping for some quiet time to relax.

.w.W.w.

She woke up to a startling noise at the door. _Crap!_ , she thought. Falling asleep on her first day of work was certainly a first. She listened more closely to the noise, and realized someone was knocking at her door. She threw her legs over the bed. She ran over to the wood framed mirror and fixed up her disheveled red mess she called hair.

She hurried to the door, opening it. A big man in a black suit was in front of the door frame, piercing black eyes staring right at her. She quickly noticed a little wire trailing down from his ear to inside his suit. _A mini walkie-talkie,_ Clary assumed.

"Mr. Wayland said to have these delivered to you," his very low voice growled. A big arm reached forward, passing her a shoe-box looking case. When she took it in her grip, he quickly set both of his hands on his sides.

"Thank you," she said, smiling. Before she had time to say anything else, the man had disappeared down the stairs and out of her view. She closed her big door and made her way towards her four poster bed. Plopping herself down on it, she opened the box.

A black maid uniform was settled nicely in the box. She took it out, holding it up to see its full body. It was rather old fashioned. It arrived a tiny bit farther down than mid-thigh. Two half circles were bordered with white fabric, where her chest would be. On the bottom of the box was small apron, held by a small white belt.

 _Why would they give her a clothes full closet when she had this? What would she use those for?_ Just as she was about to undress and try the uniform on, a small book slid through the bottom of her wooden bedroom door. She stood up and dropped the uniform on the bed covers.

As she made her way towards the door, she spotted letters printed in neat cursive. _The Wayland Manor Maid Manual._ Jeez, they were professional around here. She bent down and picked it up in her pale hands. She read on over the cover.

 _Instructions on Desired Cleaning of the Manor. Very much recommended._

Opening the thick paper lid, she glanced over the page. It showed a table of elements from the manual.

1\. _Basics_ , 2. _Uniform_ , 3. _The Main Bedrooms_ , 4. _Kitchen_ , 5. _Parlor_ , 6. _Garden_ , 7. _Cuisine_ , 8. _Additional Tips and_ _Miscellaneous_.

Flipping the pages, she noticed illustrations strictly ordering what to do. _They don't kid when they meant there was a freakin' manual._

She brought herself back to the first chapter. Glancing down over the pages, she read some of the "house rules" her boss had already presented her. She saw more about respecting the material and all. She sat down onto one of the red loveseats around the room. This was going to take a while.

She decided she might as well read the Uniform chapter. She was to wear the uniform from seven o'clock in the morning until when Mr. Wayland had gone to bed, for polite reasons. She was allowed to wear anything she wanted to bed, also. On her days off, or the days her boss called "off", she had the possibility to leave the house for any desired amount of time, in her own clothes. She had Sunday afternoons off. She read on.

In the use of the kitchen for cooking, she was expected to wear her uniform with the little white apron. Her hair could be put in any way, but presentable.

Her eyes flew over the paper, taking in every single word like oxygen. Suddenly reminding herself she would need to cook tonight's dinner, she slid into the maid uniform. The black dressed hugged her hips and slid down mid-thigh, flowing out a bit, not touching her legs. The top tightened around her torso, pushing up a bit and shoving a touch of cleavage crowned with the white lace. The short sleeves cupped inside at the end. She attached the white belt around her waist with a quick tug.

She hurried over to her walk-in closet. Even after seeing it before, her eyes widened at the very wide selection of clothes set in the white shelves and furniture. She looked around the small room, trying to find the shoes. A long, white drawer caught her green eye. She opened it, exposing two rows of shoes from black flats to crimson red pumps.

Deciding to go with a more simple look for her first night working, she grabbed some short, black scarpin heels. The girl silently hoped they wouldn't be too much. Looking at her reflection one last time before going downstairs, she pinned her hair up in a loose bun.

 _ **Quick Author's Note: I know her uniform is old-fashioned, it's to enforce the age of the manor and the Wayland's classyness, and their Victorian habits.**_

She made her way down the big, grand spiraling staircase, trying not to stumble in her heels. She slid her hand down the polished wood railing. She tried to remember the floor plan as she made her way through the large hallways, looking for the kitchen.

As she passed the living room, she noticed Mr. Wayland laying down in a long brown leather couch. His white button down was slightly ruffled, and his golden hair was disheveled as his head lay on the pillow. He must have heard her because he opened one eye before speaking to her.

"Clarissa," he acknowledged her.

"Mr. Wayland," she nodded, holding both her hands and dangling them in front of her.

"I see you've become familiar with your new uniform. I do have to admit, it looks better on you then anyone I've ever seen it on," he said, grinning, now with both eyes open. His golden eyes sparkled mischievously. She blushed with no control over it, muttering a quick "Thank you, sir.". He closed his eyes again. To her, it was a sign to show the conversation was finished.

She made her way back out to the hallway, walking into the surprisingly modern rustic kitchen. The glistening white over was settled against a brick wall. Every appliance was polished until you could see your reflection. Clary's fingers slid over the sleek marble countertops, feeling the cold stone underneath her fingertips. She made her way to the black and bulky refrigerator, opening both doors with one quick movement.

All kinds of gourmet food ingredients lay on all the transparent glass shelves in an organized fashion. Steak, lobster, and the most expensive cheese lay in one of the drawers. She noticed organic vegetables tucked into a glass drawer, also. Closing the two doors slowly, she noticed a wine bottle shelf over to a brick wall.

Romanee Conti, Chateau Lafite 1983, Inglenook Cabernet Sauvignon 1941, and many other bottles were stacked horizontally into the slots. In her daze, she remembered she had dinner to make.

She walked over to refrigerator, debating on what to cook. She settled for salmon laid on a mix of sliced zucchini and red pepper. She heated up the pan, whisking around the kitchen with her black dress swirling around her like a black hole.

After finishing the cooking, she busied herself with trying to find the plates. She suddenly heard a new voice behind her.

"Looking for plates?" She turned around, finding herself meeting another man's gaze. His figure resembled Mr. Wayland's greatly, but he was slightly taller and his hair was paler, almost becoming white. "Drawer below to your right," he guided her.

She bent over to get it, and she heard a loud whistle and a low chuckle behind her. "Liking the view?" She snapped.

"Oh definitely," he said, smirking. "Hmm. Sassy. I like it." Holding her plate in her hands, she set it on the counter island, grabbing a black napkin and utensils. She tried to ignore the man next to her with his grin.

"Will you be eating?" She asked, as politely as she could. Before he could respond, her boss walked in, looking as fresh as possible.

"No, he will not," he said. Walking over to the island, seating himself on the metal stool. "I see you've made acquaintances with my brother, Clarissa." She just nodded, serving the food nicely in a gourmet fashion, making it as presentable as possible. She stepped back, her hands behind her back.

"Are you telling me I can't have a piece of _that,_ Brother?" The other man asked. There was certainly a double meaning behind the phrase. "I drive all the way here to be sent back? What a shame."

Her boss looked awfully annoyed, almost bothered by his brother's presence. "Fine, just so you'll go, Sebastian." His brother grinned, smirking at his brother's defeat in resisting.

He seated himself next to Mr. Wayland, leaning towards Clary. "So tell me, _Clarissa,_ what we have to eat tonight," he said as she put the rest of the food on his plate.

"Salmon and a red pepper and zucchini sort of salad below it," she answered confidently.

"You aren't going to eat, hon?"

"No, sir, I'm only here to cook for my boss."

"And what does that make me?"

"An invitee."

"I'm Jace's brother, sweetheart. Now c'mon over here and take a bite," he said, extending his fork, with a piece of salmon on it.

"No, thank you, sir. Wine?" She asked, quickly steering the subject away. She hurried over to the fridge, finding an open bottle of less expensive wine. She poured it in two wine glasses, bringing them and placing them on the counter island where the two men sat.

"That was delicious, Clarissa," Jace said, standing up and wiping his napkin over his mouth. "I expect that sort of cooking for the next meals." He was about to leave the room when his brother caught his arm, taunting him with a little smile.

"Why don't you stay for a bit, Brother? Why waste such a wonderful night by just _working_?" He asked, pouting slightly. "Plus, it's Clarissa's first night here. Would you want to spoil it?"

Jace looked reluctantly between Clary and his brother, and finally nodded. "I guess I could stay a bit." His brother grinned mischievously.

.w.W.w. **(still Clary POV)**

Multiple wine glasses and laughs later, Sebastian reached once again for the second wine bottle. Clary stopped him, knowing he was surely getting drunk.

"Um, sir, I don't think that would be wise," she said shyly.

"Why, sweetheart? Worrying for me?"

"Sebastian, I think you should go home," Jace cut in dryly. He guided a stumbling Sebastian out of the kitchen. Clary walked with them, standing at the doorway. "Goodbye, Sebastian," Jace called as he watched the man stumble towards his Porsche convertible. Once he was inside safely, a tired Mr. Wayland turned to me. "I'm sorry about that."

They both walked back to the manor. "Goodnight, Clarissa," he said before turning towards the grand staircase and climbing up it.

"Goodnight, sir," she muttered. She walked towards the kitchen with the clickity-clack of her heels on the floorboards. She washed the dishes and put them gently into the polished dishwasher.

Clary went up the stairs in turn. She was already undoing her apron by the time she arrived at her door. Opening it quietly, she slipped into her huge bedroom. She felt like a real princess just by looking at it.

She slipped out of the black maid dress in a swift movement, and made her way to the closet in her undergarments. There was a big selection in the sleepwear section. Babydolls, flannels, and cotton rompers filled up the rack. Deciding to use her possibilities to their full extent, she chose a white babydoll, fitting nicely to her chest and waist.

She slipped into her heavy, red covers. She flicked off the lights with the switch beside her bed, and fell into a deep slumber.

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

Sorry, I had to end it in a rush! Next chapter will mostly be Jace's POV. Thanks for reading!

 _Drop me a review?_


	3. A Pool Night

❤️My dear readers❤️,

Review Responses: To one of the Guests: I **am** hoping to find a beta soon enough, but as of right now, with finals coming up, I've been fairly busy myself, with not much time to find one. And yes- in the story, Clary is supposedly around 21-23, while Jace is a couple years older than her(24-27, like you suggested). I apologize for the grammar errors and mistakes, for I try my best to fix anything and take my time to make it right. Thank you for the review!

Thank you all for the follows and reviews! Here it goes.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Only the plot. I own the story itself.

 **Chapter 3:**

 _A Pool Night_

Clary woke up to daylight streaming in between the curtain gap. A shadow of foliage moved and swayed on the walls. She pushed herself up in a sitting position, letting the heavy red covers fall around her waist. Yawning, she pushed them onto the bed and hauled herself off the bed.

A fur rug tickled her feet as she stepped off the bed with a wobble. The feeling suddenly changed when her feet felt the cold wood over her skin, sending chills through her pale legs. She hurried over to the vanity. She glanced at the small clock set on the spruce wood table. Seven thirty-one. She had almost thirty minutes to tame her red hair and get dressed in something that covered more than the couple inches the babydoll did.

Setting herself down onto the vanity shelf, she grabbed one of the new brushes from a cup, sliding down through her red hair slowly. She repeated the process for what seemed to be hours, and finally set it back. She grabbed her mascara, adding it to her already long, curly eyelashes. She flicked her wrist as she felt the cool eyeliner run above her eyelids.

Finishing her makeup, she slipped into the black maid uniform, tightening the white belt around her small waist. She pulled the top down a bit, re-adjusting it to show a bit of cleavage. She slid on black pumps to show off her long legs. She let her hair down in long crimson waves as she walked down the staircase.

She shuffled into the kitchen, deciding to make nice French toast for Mr. Wayland.

She slid the final product nicely on a place, arranging an assortment of fruit in small moon on the side of it. She sprinkled powdered sugar onto the French toast, and just before leaving, she set it all on a rectangular platter.

As she made her way out of the room, she quickly fixed her hair, hoping to make a good impression on her first morning. She tugged on the white waist belt and slid her hands down her dress. She picked up the platter from the countertop and walked out towards the hallway.

She walked towards Mr. Wayland's study door, rearranging her hand to hold the whole platter while she knocked with her free hand. She heard a faint "Come in". She pushed the door open with her back, and strutted into the office. Clary set the platter onto his desk, leaning forwards. He smirked, and she suddenly felt very exposed. She played along, moving both her arms closer together as she set the platter down, emphasizing the gap between her breasts.

With her head high, staying confident, she said, "There you go, Mr. Wayland." He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on his desk and put his hands behind his head.

"Mmh," he said, grinning. "How did you sleep on your first night, Clarissa?" Him pronouncing her name like that sent chills through her spin, and a shiver rumbled in her body.

"Very well, sir," she responded. Her boss was wearing a dark blue button down, tightly closed, showing off rippling muscles as he extended his arms backwards and yawned. "What about you?"

"Not amazingly," he admitted.

"Sorry to hear that, sir."

"You're welcome to join me and help the process." His irresistible grin didn't help, either.

"If you're up for it," she whispered, leaning over even more and flashed him a small, flirty smile. Hoping to have the last word, she strutted out, swinging her hips side to side to exaggerate the statement. Just when she thought his little games were done, he heard his low voice echo through the room all the way to her.

"Oh, I certainly am, Clarissa."

.w.W.w.

After the little conversation with the new maid, Jace had shut himself into his study to finish his work. He sat in his leather chair, debating who to hire for the new person needed to be taken care of. He glanced through all his employee profiles.

Someone with experience would have to do it. Sifting through all his workers, he finally decided to contact one of his most cunning, most reliable man.

Jace dialed the number on his study phone, fingers tapping on the desk, waiting for a response. The man picked up.

Panting noises echoed statically in the background. He heard a woman's voice in the background, whining.

"Sir?" The man on the other side called, his voice breathy.

"Pangy, hang up and come back here," the female voice whined again. The man seemed to move away from the voice before silence came clear for Jace's ear.

" _Pangy_? Pangborn, I was at least expecting something more classy," he scoffed. "Did I interrupt anything?"

"No, not at all. Is there something you need me to do?"

"My office, one hour. Come," he stated before hanging up the phone on its holder. He shifted back into his original relaxed position and started filing a portfolio for the man they needed to eliminate. As he filled it with pictures of him with his family, friends, and sexual partners, and anybody he had connections with. The constant sound of the printer became therapeutic, the beep and slip of the paper coming out of the black machine.

He suddenly got interrupted by a quiet knock at his closed door. "Come in," he called, still putting more papers into the portfolio. Clarissa came in, her hips barely swinging side to side and her attire completely normal, but he couldn't help but find her attractive. Her little black dress had ridden up a bit on her legs, exposing more thigh.

"What can I do for you, Clarissa?" He asked, his eyes running over her like water.

"I was just wondering if you needed anything. I'll be going if that isn't the case," she stated.

"A coffee." She nodded and stepped out of the study, her heels clicking behind her as she left. She came back a few minutes later with a steaming coffee mug in her hand. She settled it gently on the desk top.

"There you go," she said, stepping back.

"Say, Clarissa," Jace stated. "Are you up for a game of pool tonight?"

.w.W.w.

All that her boss had said was, throw on something nice. Her hands pushed hangers from side to side, looking for something fitting.

She threw on a high waisted white pencil skirt, nicely shaping her body, and slipped on a black tee, tucking it in the skirt and pulling it out a bit. She put on white pumps to accent her skirt. She put her hair up in a messy bun.

She walked down the stairs and guided herself into the pool room. Two guards were set in front of it, black uniform and all. They didn't send her a second glance as she stepped into the room. When she entered, she realized her and Mr. Wayland weren't the only two.

A man was laughing loudly next to him, swinging a beer into his mouth. Suddenly, the big muscular figure seemed awfully familiar. She strutted towards the table. Her boss turned around and grinned.

"You came," he acknowledged. He set his beer down onto the wood border of the pool table. The other man turned around, his eyes widening as he saw her. "This is Clarissa, my new maid," he said, proudly.

Clary kept her eyes on the other man as he stood in front of her gaping. She scoffed.

"What? You've never seen a lady before?" She teased before taking her own pool stick and holding it close to her. "Are we going to play or what?" She felt her reckless self boiling at the surface. They both nodded, smirking.

Before long, they were all laughing, both men drinking while Clary stayed sober. She leaned down across the table, aligning her stick to hit the white ball. She suddenly felt a warm hand on hers, guiding the stick in a different direction. She felt someone pressing up behind her, fixing her posture.

"Like that," Jace breathed in her ear, his breath hot and thick. "You have a better chance of hitting it right."

He was now completely pressed against her, his back against hers and his arms covering her thin ones. With a small jerk, he moved her hand and the ball went spiraling forwards, hitting two at the same time, both entering the holes on either side of the table. He stood up, his hands on her waist before stepping back and losing contact with her.

She breathed in shakily, and felt a shiver run down her spine slowly. She set her hand on the wood border of the table, somewhat holding herself up.

"Now, do it alone," he said. She shook her head, still shaken up. "Fine, let's do it together one more time." Before she could respond, he had his arms all over her. She felt like Jell-o under his grip. He jerked again, hitting the pool ball perfectly as it bounced off the side, entering the hole without a problem.

The other man interrupted, clearly bothered by what was going on.

"200 on the next one, you and me, Jace," he said, slapping down a pile of dollars in the middle of the green fabric. He grabbed another pool stick, holding it out to him.

Jace let go of her and walked over to the holder to get his own. "It's on, Pangborn." Suddenly it hit her. The familiar figure, the familiar voice, the familiar _everything_. She stumbled out of the room quickly.

"Bathroom," she mumbled on her way out, to signal to the boys. She clutched her forehead when she entered the room. She had been playing _pool_ with the man who had left her for some slut he had met at the club. She had laughed with him.

 _Why was he here?_ Questions bubbled around in her head.

Deciding to go back out there and face the problem herself, she walked out back to the pool room. They glanced up from their game when she entered once again. She glared at Pangborn, who finally realized her trouble. She strutted towards him and smiled at Jace. She turned to Pangborn and lifted her head a bit, to try to level her head to his neck, at least.

She rasped in his ear. "Took a night away from the slut?" He stiffened and grinned. He turned towards her and whispered in her ear in turn.

"You seem to be getting cozy with someone else as well, Clare."

"At least I'm not hooking up with a random skank."

"At least I'm not hooking up with my boss," he countered. He continued playing with Jace as if they weren't having a conversation. He spoke up from the other side of the table.

"I say we should invite more people over, what do you think, Pangborn?" He asked. "Brand new poker table?" He waggled his eyebrows. Pangborn laughed loudly and approved.

Barely ten minutes later, more than a dozen people were crowded around the big poker table, all with their set of cards and beer bottle. Loud laughs echoed in the game room. Multiple friends of Jace's and Pangborn had sat down, all male. Clary put her hands on the back of Jace's chair, leaning against her arms strength.

She ran her hands back and forth on the wooden surface, earning multiple glances from the men around the table. When he set his beer down, she reached and grabbed for it, taking a long swig of the bitter liquid, releasing a small gasp after finishing the bottle. Jace glanced at her questioningly, then grinned sexily. She already felt the alcohol getting to her.

"Refills?" She asked, to no one in particular. They all nodded or gave a jerk of their head in approval.

As she walked to the small wooden bar at the far side of the game room, she swung her hips side by side, hoping to put on a good show for the boys. She came back with at least 8 beers held by her fingers. She set them down on the table and as she walked to go sit on the couch, she tripped. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and stopped her from falling.

.w.W.w.

Jace pulled her into his lap. "You okay now?" He chuckled. She sat perpendicular to him, so he was able to watch the poker game. "You're totally wasted."

She giggled and threw her arms around his neck and threw her head back and laughed again. He called to one of the bodyguards against the door.

"Someone get her to bed," he said, gesturing to her. One of the men all dressed in black nodded and made their way towards the poker table, in large, long strides. Jace put his hands underneath her, trying to pick her up.

Her tightened her grip around his neck and snuggled her head between his shoulders and his neck, mumbling.

"No," she muttered. "Come with me, Mr. Wayland." Her voice was smooth, seductively silky. He slowly turned towards the bodyguards and nodded.

"I got it from here." They nodded in turn and walked back to their posts. Jace slipped his hands beneath the woman and hoisted her up in his arms, bridal style. She was surprisingly light in his grip. He walked out into the hallway, being careful not to bother Clarissa. He went up the stairs and pushed her door open.

He gently dropped her onto the bed, slipping over her pumps. She squirmed, more awake. She smiled and sat up on the bed, grabbing his tie and pulling her closer to him.

"So you're telling me, Mr. Wayland, that I'll be sleeping _fully_ dressed?" She said, dreamily. Her hands wandered, smoothing down his tie. "Mr. Wayland?" She pressed, smiling sweetly.

"Why don't _you_ ," he said. "Undress yourself, and I'll get you sleepwear? What about it?"

"Why don't _you_ ," she responded, sliding her hands over his white button-down covered chest. "Undress _me_ , yourself?" She giggled. He shook his head, and she gave in, sighing. "Fine, be quick," she added with a wink.

"You're _so_ wasted," he muttered on his way to her walk-in closet. He hadn't realized how many clothes he had filled the hangers and shelves with. Rows on rows of dresses were ligned up. He found the sleepwear section towards the right. He simply decided and took off a blue shirt from the rack and short gray shorts.

The moment he walked back into the room, he saw Clarissa from the back, pulling up her shirt. He sucked in a breath and strode over to her. He threw the clothes onto her bed.

"Good night, Clarissa," he muttered. She had already put on the clothes and gone under the covers.

"Good night, Mr. Wayland," she mumbled, before dozing off.

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

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	4. Glass Shards

️❤️My lovely readers❤️,

Thank you all for the many reviews and feedback! Thank you **mkxoxosmileyface** for that wonderful review, it really made my day! Expect another chapter Friday! Now, let's continue.

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. I own the plot, and the material itself. Please do not plagiarize.

 **Chapter 4:**

 _Glass Shards_

Clary woke up with a pounding ache in her head, resounding into her eyes in a high pitched screech. She sat up on her four poster bed, yawning and grasping her head when the pounding resumed. She threw her legs over the bed and stalked towards the mirror. She was a mess.

Her red hair was all over the place. Her makeup was smudged, and her pale skin looked practically ghost-like. She ran her fingers through the small knots in her hair, trying to get rid of them. She wore an oversized navy blue tee, her frail arms poking out of the large sleeves. On her legs were a pair of cotton grey shorts, loose around her thighs. She sighed and slipped into her bathroom. It spelled out _rich_.

Dark spruce wood was on the walls, until a dark brown marble pillar stopped it. A squared area lay in front of her. To the very back, was a large, wooden alcove, where lay a big, luxurious tub. It was built in the marble slab. An old, golden tap was used for it.

A rustic rug was laid in the middle of the room. On the right, were wooden cabinets, with white marble covering the top. Small shelves were tucked into the walls, and plush white towels were folded nicely on the surfaces. A small chandelier hung from the high ceilings, adding an even more luxurious feel. On the other side, was a similar counter top, but a large curvy vase filled with blood red roses was placed on its center. The sweet, fresh smell drifted all the way across the room to her.

She flicked open the tap, and sat on the tub's border. The ringing in her ears had died down a bit, but she wouldn't mind a long, steaming bath. She stood up and pulled the blue tee over her head and threw it on the floor. She pulled down her shorts and slipped into the boiling water. She moaned quietly in pleasure. She grabbed the bubble soap and slid it across her soft, pale skin, watching bubbles form, on the water's surface and create a thin layer of foam. She sunk deeper into the tub.

Half an hour later, she was out of the bath, skin as soft as a baby's, and her thin body wrapped around with a soft towel, barely arriving mid thigh. She grabbed a thin brush from a spruce wood drawer and passed it through her hair, combing it down to the strand.

After having cleaned up and done her makeup, Clary out on her maid uniform and slipped on the same black pumps as the last day. This time, she wore thin black tights, who finished right under the hem of her dress. She let her hair down on her shoulders in soft red curls, waving down like vines.

She sautered down the stairs and into the kitchen, preparing her boss' meal. After several minutes of pancake making, she had neatly stacked them on a coal black plate, an assortment of fruit laid out on the side. She placed it on a platter, along with water and a silky white napkin.

She walked towards his study and knocked. He grunted in response and she hurried in. He didn't send her a glance.

"You're late," he said, still looking at the papers laid out in front of him.

"I'm sorry, sir," she responded, her eyes gazing over his lean figure. His black button down had the first few buttons opened, showing off golden skin, glazed with abdominal muscles. They flexed when he pushed a folder farther away, knocking a pen on to the ground. He sighed, not even bothered.

She bent over to pick it up, her back to him, as the pen had rolled farther off behind her.

"I see you've added something to your required uniform," he commented.

"Yes," she said, peeking out at him through her long, black eyelashes. "But if it bothers you, I will gladly remove it."

"Oh, no, no, no," he disagreed, shaking his head. "It's not a problem at all. It's quite the opposite." He grinned. She whisked her hair over her shoulder, and walked her fingers over the desk, placing the pen gently on his portfolio.

"Oh, then I'm sure it wouldn't hurt to wear it again, would it, Mr. Wayland?" She added, giving him a sultry smile. His grin widened at this, and she spotted the mischievous glint hiding in his golden eyes. She pouted. "I'm so sorry about being late, sir. What can I do to make it up to you?" She put her hands on his desk and leaned down, clearly exposing her cleavage.

"Well, Clarissa, I'm almost sure you just _might_ need to wear _those_ ," he said, his voice husky, pointing at her sexy black tights. "Again tomorrow." He smirked, leaning back in his leather chair, putting his hands behind his head in his usual position.

"Definitely, Mr. Wayland," she responded, and walked out of his study, hips moving side to side.

.w.W.w.

After the late breakfast with the maid, Jace had called up his, well, "girlfriend". All they did was mess around in the bed, but she had felt the need to go up a step, or it was over. Why would he waste a beautiful girl with a beautiful body for an idiotic word?

The knock at the front door woke him from his daze of work. He strode out into the hallway and pulled open the heavy dark wood door. The girl was wearing a tight eggplant dress, barely covering her chest or ass. Her face was covered and caked up with pounds of makeup, making her look like a real life Barbie. Her blonde hair was thrown into a pony tail, and her fake-nail covered hands were clutching a Michael Kors handbag.

"Jacey," she spoke, running her hand down his chest, pulling at his tie. It didn't spark the same attraction Clarissa had when she had done it last night, and he silently longed to see those legs in those black tights.

"Kaelie," he said, nodding. He opened the door more and moved to the side to let her pass. She swung her hips side to side, probably hoping to be sexy, but just coming out as vulgar. She grabbed his collar and she slammed herself against the door. She pulled him against her and kissed him hungrily. He didn't return the favor.

"Jacey?" She asked, pouting. "Kiss me." Just to make her coming more exciting, he pushed her up against the wooden surface and pinned her arms above her head. He kissed her, sweeping his tongue inside to get her into it.

A small throat being cleared brought them out of their kiss. Clarissa was gawking at them, blushing. He felt the bulge in his pants that had been rising before continue now, but for a different reason. Her dress was riding up her thighs, exposing a sexy, mouth watering, start of a garter belt. Her black pumps made it even harder to resist pushing her up against the wall and taking her himself.

"Jacey, who's this?" Kaelie's high pitched voice interrupted.

"My new maid." She scoffed. She muttered something like "Nice uniform" under her breath. "How can I help you, Clarissa?"

"I was wondering who our guest was, and if she was eating supper with you," she stated.

"This is-," he started.

"His girlfriend," Kaelie interrupted. "I'm Kaelie." She gave Clarissa a smile, but he knew that behind it all was jealousy, anger, and annoyance from being interrupted between their make out session. "And yes, I'll be eating." She sent him a small smile.

"Okay," said Clarissa, nodding. "I'll resume my cooking then, sir." She strutted out, her hips moving back and forth, naturally, unlike Kaelie's movements. Her dress went up a bit more with every twist of her curvy body, revealing even more of the black mesh garter belt. He clutched his fists to stop himself from running after her, and do the same thing he had been doing with Kaelie. He turned back to the blonde.

She looked at the growing bulge in his black pants and she smiled. "I see, even when you're looking at a _slut_ , you can't help but think about me," she said, clueless about the real reason why he felt turned on. Choosing to forget about it, he grabbed her hand.

"Why don't we play a bit of pool, Kaelie?" He grinned, trying to woo her into playing. She smiled and followed him into the pool room.

After several matches, Kaelie failing them all, he went to get a drink from the small bar. Just as he was coming back, Kaelie shouted at him.

"Jacey! Look!" She set herself up, position all wrong, and took a shot. The stick dug into the green velvet material, ripping it. The ball went flying. It hit the wooden border and bounced up, hiting the glass bookcase. It shattered, and it rained glass shards. "Oh, my gosh! Jacey! I'm so sorr-"

He cut her off. He pointed to the door and covered his face with his other hand, looking at the ground.

"Out." She tried to protest. "Out. Now." Her eyes widened and she grabbed her things and hurried out the door. Once a pool table cover is ripped, you cannot fix it. He heard the clicking of heels in the hallway. "Kaelie, I'm seri-" He turned and saw Clarissa holding a dusting pan and a broom. "Clarissa."

"Sorry. I just heard the noise and I thought something happened." She glanced behind him at the shattered glass. "Holy shit," she muttered. He bent down next to it and starting picking up the shards. Pain coursed through him as he watched a long slit form in his palm. He winced. Blood spread around the cut, like a miniscule fountain of red liquid.

He heard Clary hurry out of the room, but the sound of her pumps quickly returned. She grabbed his hand and brought him in a standing position. Seemingly, she had found a roll of bandage somewhere. She quickly undid the small knot tying it together. She unrolled a couple of inches of it, and wrapped it slowly around his hand. When he sucked in a breath when it stung horribly, she mumbled a couple of quick "Sorry"s, undoing it and rolling it around the injury less tightly.

She finished wrapping the cut in record time, securing it well with a little pin. She smiled up at his tall figure. "There we go."

He got closer to her. His voice low, he whispered, " _Ma belle_ _infirmière._ " {My beautiful nurse.} He got closer to her ear. "Don't worry about it, _chérie_ ," he whispered. {Sweetheart.}

.w.W.w.

His breath was hot and thick on her skin, sending slight tingles down her neck and all over her body. "I'll have it taken care of," he quietly said, his voice husky and low. She practically felt his grin against her ear. He stepped back, and in that split second, she took him all in.

Gold hair like the sun's beauty had really come from it. Soft curls reaching a little below his ears, thin strands in blonde loops. His perfectly defined cheekbones rose just below his sun-kissed eyes, glimmering with every glance. Tanned skin covered _every inch_ ( **;)** ) of his muscled arms, almost glowing with every crease of skin. A tall figure towering over all at approximately 6'2, if she trusted her measuring skills. Long, thin, but still muscular legs slid into black jeans. He wore polished black shoes that shone in the pool room ceiling lamp. A ruffled button down is tightly fitted on his chest, slightly see-through, enabling her to see a small form of abs underneath the fabric. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing even more tanned and muscular forearms.

He snapped his fingers at the bodyguard at the door's entrance, gesturing to the shattered glass in front of the wooden bookcases.

"This, gone, by the time I come back." The guard nodded and pulled the black wire closer to his mouth, and muttered something she could not hear. Once done, he placed both his hands together in front of his torso, and stared straight towards.

She picked up the broom, and moved all the glass into a pile. She suddenly felt a grip on her arm, and she turned to see one of the guards shaking his head. She nodded reluctantly, and steadied the broom against the pool table. She brushed her pale fingers on her black dress and hurried out.

She assumed Jace had already continued his work, shutting himself, _again_ , in his office. She assigned herself the lunch task, and walked into the kitchen.

.w.W.w.

After the incident with Kaelie, he refused the multiple calls from her. The constant ringing started to get off his nerves. He grunted, and stood up angrily. He stomped to the plug in the wall, and ripped out the phone plug. He let it dangle aimlessly from his spruce desk. The slight noise signaling Jace had messages silenced, throwing him back into silence, apart from his breathing. He heard a muffled racket from the hallway. Deciding to examine it, he strode towards it.

Pans and bowls were sprawled all over the kitchen's stone slab paved floor. A cursing maid was busying herself by stuffing them all back, orderlessly, into the lower cabinet.

"I like things neat," he said, clearly surprising her. He leaned against the door frame, casually putting his hands in his pockets. Her head practically twisted around the look at him. Her red hair whizzed by as well. Her eyes narrowed and she continued to shove them into the small space.

"That's quite unfortunate, Mr. Wayland," she spat. "Because at the moment, that doesn't seem like the priority."

"Last time I checked, your paycheck is." She sent him a death glance. Her eyes closed into slits.

"You're so difficult, Mr. Wayland."

"I aim to please."

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

Short, I know, but I'll have another chapter up quickly! Like it? Hate it? Tell me!

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	5. Black Dresses and Button-Downs

❤️My dear followers❤️,

Thank you for all the reviews! I really appreciate all the feedback I have received from all of you, and from the simple follows and favorites! Sorry I took so long to update, you should expect longer chapters every week now. Thank you for waiting for updates.

 **ALSO:** I am currently searching for a beta for this story, and perhaps my other one. If anyone is interested, please **PM** or **review**.

Now we must read!

-Eleonore

 **Chapter 5:**

 _Black Dresses and Button-Downs_

Friday night had arrived, giving Clary a whole night off from her job. She had just finished washing off the kitchen island counter, putting away all the products and rags. She was hoping for a nice club night to get her mind off her duties in the manor. She glanced at the clock on the wall, reading 9:24.

She finished dusting off old wooden tables and furniture in the parlor, and putting away stray books back on to the bookcases. Jace had a wide variety of books, varying from Greek myths to Russian history. She slid her fingers down the ruff and used spines of old, dusty books, glancing at their titles.

Once she was done, it was already 9:45. She whipped up a small salad, quickling slicing vegetables professionally and mixing them with the rest. With every _thud_ of her chef knife hitting the circular wooden cutting board, it slowly became therapeutic. She handled it like she had used it her whole life.

She chose a grey plate and placed the meal onto the surface. After arranging it on a small platter with a napkin, utensils and a glass, she brought it to Mr. Wayland's study.

She knocked, and walked into the room, silently placing the platter onto his desk.

"There," she stated. "Caesar salad with small bacon pieces, cucumber and tomato added for flavor." He nodded, without looking at her, as he tried to organize his messy desk, filing through the tall towers of paper on the sleek wood surface. He looked up.

"What? You think I'm paying you for sulking around in my office?" He scoffed. "Off you go, sweetheart." She could practically hear the sarcasm dripping from his words as they hung in the empty atmosphere of the study. Clary shuffled out.

.w.W.w.

Clary aimlessly spent the next hour going around the house, here and there, taking care of the small tasks she forced upon herself to take up the time. She washed windows, organized pillows, and re-adjusted curtains. After restlessly busying herself, she made her way up to her room, as it was past ten.

She threw her heels in the room, and proceeded to her undressing, getting ready to slip into something more appealing for a visit to Pandemonium.

She ventured through the variety of dresses in her wardrobe. At the far left of the rack, one specific dress caught her eye. She slipped it on, standing in front of the mirror.

The tight black fabric hugged all her curves, ending around just above her mid-thigh. It was long sleeved, giving her a sleek look. The neckline plunged to just above her belly button in a large v, tightly pushing out cleavage. It complimented her pale skin well.

She clipped on a thick gold shocker around her neck, and put her hair in a high pony tail. She slid the eyeliner across her eyelid in a quick, smooth motion, and blended black eye shadow to have a smokey eye. She put on crimson red lipstick, which clashed perfectly with her hair.

She ran her hands down her dress. Perfect. She grabbed her black and gold Michael Kors hand bag and slipped on black platform heels with thin ankle straps.

By the time she was done getting dressed, it was already 10:38. She made her way down the stairs, confidently listening to the _click_ and _clank_ of her heels hitting the wood floors. She walked to the entrance doors, then suddenly remembered.

 _How was she going to get there?_

She looked over to a bodyguard standing in the parlor. She made her way over to him, shyly, trying to cover up her chest. When he spotted her, she felt his eyes roam down her body.

"Car?" Was all he asked. She quickly nodded, and hurried to follow the tall man through a thick door. He entered a code into the small machine on the door handle, and after several _beeps,_ it opened loudly.

At least a _dozen_ of cars were parked in the huge garage. They were all shiny, Clary could almost see her clear reflection.

Porsche, Lamborghini, Bugatti, Corvette, Tesla, and the most expensive models of all brands. She had an itch to run her finger down the sleek edge of all of the cars.

"Your pick?" A low voice broke her from her thoughts. She glanced around, trying to find the less expensive one. She settled on a red Mercedes convertible. She pointed to it with her free hand. The body guard nodded and proceeded to get keys out of a steel cabinet. He dangled them just above her hand.

"Careful." She nodded once again before taking the keys and strutting towards the car.

She opened the front door and slipped onto the smooth, beige leather seat. She turned on the ignition and the garage door opened. The air was heavy, not too hot but not cold; perfect temperature for a ride.

The manor wasn't that far away from the bustling city of Chicago. Forty-five minute drive, max. She drove quickly on the empty roads, feeling the wind graze her skin with cold fingers.

She arrived in the loud city in forty minutes. Loud music erupted from the entrance doors every time someone came in. She parked right in front of the club, earning whistles and looks from passing men. She opened the door, and slipped out in one quick movement.

She strutted into the club, getting a VIP pass from the bouncer, as she was a frequent visitor at Pandemonium. She winked at the big muscular man when he moved the rope to the side for her. He gave her a head jerk as approval.

She walked into the club, earning glances from guys all around. She quickly slipped into the crowd, following all the jumping bodies into the dance.

Somebody sidled up behind her, their bodies moving together with every beat of the song. His hands placed themselves onto her waist, gripping her tightly, with every twist of movement. She turned around, placing one hand on his shoulder and one arm in the air, swaying to the song.

The man was around her age, black hair and tanned skin. His muscles were defined perfectly on his exposed arms. He wore a low black wife beater, and it was so tight that she could see the abs underneath the fabric.

His eyes flew down her, taking in her attire. He got closer to her, and whispered in her ear.

"What's your name?" His voice was low and husky, his breath hot and thick against her ear.

"Clarissa," she whispered. "And yours?"

"Sebastian." He twisted her around again, and her back was against his chest. She grinded against him, hands in the air. His hands traced down from her torso's sides down to her thighs. "Your beautiful, Clarissa." He started kissing her neck, starting behind her ear. He nuzzled his head in the crook between her neck and shoulder, biting it gently. She gasped quietly.

They continued for a couple more minutes, until SOS by Rihanna blared in the speakers. He grasped her hips harder, and brought her even closer to him.

 _I'm obsessive when just one thought of you comes up_

 _And I'm aggressive just one thought of close enough_

She swayed her hips to the beat, hands in the hair.

 _Just hold me close boy 'cause I'm your tiny dancer_

She heard another voice behind her. It was familiar. "I think I'll take it from here, man." She felt Sebastian's reluctant arms get off her, and she felt a bit disappointed. The feeling was suddenly replaced when another person sidled up behind her, warmer then Sebastian.

" _T'es très jolie, comme_ _ca_ _, ma belle,_ " his voice whispered in her ear. His breath grazed her neck, sending chills down her back. His body moved along with her to the beat of the song.

"Jace?" He ran his fingers down her sides, his head resting on his shoulder, so close to her that she could hear his breathing.

" _Je ne peux pas m'empecher_ ," he whispered again, his lips brushing her earlobe. He grabbed her arm and twirled her around to face him.

He wore a black button down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black jeans. She glanced at his forearms. Mysterious tattoos flowed up his shoulder, entrancing her to rip off the shirt to follow them up. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing a nicely toned chest. He was sexy as _hell_.

His golden eyes sparkled with lust. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her gently towards him, _against_ him.

"Why don't you dance some more, _chérie_?" He put his hands on her waist, pulling her completely against him. She let the music take her away, swaying her hips side to side with his grip. Without even realizing, she closed her eyes and put her wrists on his shoulders, completely binding herself to him.

As the song changed to _Body Party_ by Ciara, everybody in the club slowed, slowly grinding or swaying lightly with their partners. She felt Jace's hands slowly trail down from her lower back, silently asking for permission. She slid one hand down to his chest.

She felt like this was normal, like it wasn't weird that she was grinding with her boss. His hand drifted towards her ass, splaying his fingers. She gasped when he squeezed it gently, earning his mouth kissing her ear and down her neck. Clary felt him smile against her skin.

He turned her around again, and she moved her ass against him back and forth as the song changed once again to _Na Na_ (Trey Songz). She bent down forwards, moving even more against him. She came back up and moved her hands in the air slowly.

 _Oooh Na Na_

 _Look what you just started_

 _Oooh Na Na_

 _Why you gotta act so naughty_

She giggled when his hands trailed down from her torso to her waist and leaned his head next to her ear.

" _If you keep shakin' that ass_ ," he muttered. After a couple more minutes of dancing, more like _many_ , she finally made her way back to the manor, remembering that she _did_ have work tomorrow, and that she was drunk. She had her heels in her hands as she stumbled up the grand staircase. She barged into her room, threw her heels around the room, and flopped onto the bed.

.w.W.w.

Jace woke up with a pounding headache from the night before. He sat up in the black king bed, stretching his shirtless arms. He threw his legs over the bed, and walked towards his bathroom. He squinted when he turned on the modern ceiling lamps.

He pulled down his sweatpants and slipped into the walk in shower. Steam engulfed him as the hot water burned his skin. After quickly rinsing himself, he got out. The steam had disappeared a bit. He put a plush white towel around his waist and got closer to the mirror. He felt the thin stubble on his cheeks.

He took out his shaving cream, placing it on the countertop. He took out the razor and spread the foamy cream onto his face. Leaning forwards, he carefully started to shave.

A small hum echoed into the hallway and somebody threw the door open. Clarissa was waltzing in, holding towels and cleaning supplies. Her eyes widened as she spotted Jace, shirtless, shaving innocently. He could see her in the mirror, running her eyes over his abs and the towel.

"Like what you see?" Jace asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Who wouldn't?" She scoffed, quickly covering her surprise from before. She wasn't actually wearing her uniform. She had probably realized he was looking at her attire, because she explained, "The dress was dirty, plus it doesn't hurt to wear something else in a while, ey?"

She wore a loose black blouse, and a grey pencil skirt, accenting her beautiful and sexy curves. She had put on beige wedges to make her long legs and her figure taller. The first few buttons of her blouse were slightly open, peeking out a small piece of a black lace bra.

Her eyes quickly glanced at his chest, and she seemed to have trouble tearing them away.

"Anyways," he said, breaking the silence up. "What was so important that you had to interrupt my shirtless shaving session? Though, I do know some ladies that would happily barge in just for the view." He grinned sexily at her.

She leaned against the door frame. "I must say, I certainly feel like one of them at the moment, Mr. Wayland." She gave him a sultry smile, and placed a hand on the door frame to push herself off of it. "Well, I must resume my duties."

He nodded. "I think that might be mise, Clarissa," he said, sending her a smirk.

"Indeed it might be, Mr. Wayland."

* * *

 _ **Translations from French to English:**_

 ** _T'es très jolie comme ca, ma belle._ You're very pretty like that, beautiful.**

 ** _Je ne peux pas m'empecher._ I just can't help myself.**

~ **FEEDBACK IS WELCOME** ~

 _I know this chapter must be confusing and a bit different, compared to how the characters usually behave. Thank you for reading!_

 _ **Drop me a review?**_


	6. Hedge Mazes

❤️My dear followers❤️,

 _Eeek!_ We've reached more than **50** follows and approaching **60** (I know it's not a lot, but to me, it's everything)! I thank you all so much for reading and supporting this story! It means a lot!

Thank you all for the reviews, favorites, and follows! As a beginning writer—they are so helpful to me! I love feedback from all of you guys. It's nice to get encouragement for more updates and chapters!

Now let's read!

-Eleonore

 **Chapter 6:**

 _Hedge Mazes_

The next day, Clary woke up to obnoxiously loud knocking at her bedroom door. She groaned, throwing the blanket over her head to drown the noise. She was greeted with even louder knocking sounding in her ears. Slipping out from her plush, red duvet, she hurried over to the door barefoot in her babydoll, putting on a short satin robe to cover herself up. She rushed to the door, throwing it open, revealing a stressed out, fuming Jace.

She tightened the grip of her robe.

"Sir?" She asked, annoying of her awakening. His eyes crawled over her like a spider over its web, taking in every single part of her. "What do you need?"

"Clarissa," he started, his voice tight with anger. "It's _fuckin_ ' eleven o'clock. When I expect you to respect your work times, as they are not _optional_. This is a warning."

"But, sir—"

"No ' _buts',_ Clarissa. Though, I must say, your attire does bring out the color of your skin. And other things, too." He smirked, clearly enjoying himself for being so forward.

"I'm sure that's not proper vocabulary for work, Mr. Wayland," she remarked dryly.

"I choose the vocabulary for _work_ , sweetheart. I'm the boss. And I intend to keep it that way. Chop, chop. You're three hours late. I expect you to make up for it later." **{innuendo confirmed ;)}** He stalked off graciously, his long legs striding with confidence.

He whirled around suddenly, narrowing his eyes. He snapped his fingers.

"I'm quite aware of my behind's stunning looks, but you have work to do, Ms. Fray." She scoffed and shut herself back into her bedroom. She dressed in record time, slipping on her usual garter belt as if it was her routine. She had slept in four more hours then normal, she thought, as she scolded herself.

She grabbed her brush and almost yanked it through her red hair, barely acknowledging the pain searing her scalp with every scratch of the brush's ends.

She practically ran down the stairs. She found her boss sipping a steaming coffee and reading a newspaper as he leaning against the kitchen's counter island.

"Have you had breakfast yet?" She asked him. He looked up at her from under his dark brown eyelashes.

"Of course." He looked back at the paper, skimming the pages slowly with his gold eyes.

"Do you have anything important for me to do, sir?"

"Not at the moment," he started. He seemed to suddenly remind himself. "Oh, yes. If you'd like to make yourself useful, I'm have a meal with a few..." He looked up, as if he was searching for the word needed on the ceiling. " _Colleagues,_ let's say. Set the table nicely in the grand dining room. Table for six."

He continued to casually sip from his beverage slowly with ease. "It's a brunch. Food is already done."

She simply nodded as he resumed reading. She searched cabinets and drawings, choosing the finest utensils, plates and china.

She stumbled into the dining room, all the items in her hands, trying to set them as softly as she could on the hard wooden table. She arranged all the six table sets accordingly.

As she swayed around the room, re-adjusting everything, she felt a pair of eyes on her. She rushed around, suddenly realizing she only had a couple minutes before her boss' invitees were supposed to arrive.

"You look like the Flash like that," Pangborn's voice called. He chuckled when she whirled around to meet his gaze. He was leaning against the door frame, his tall build almost reaching the top of it. "Surprised? You know, I work for your boss, too."

"Staying over for lunch?" She questioned. She turned back to the table, finishing off her duty.

From behind her, she heard, "Yep, along with some other guys. Why? Want me to stay longer?" She could hear the smirk in his voice. She turned her head around and narrowed her eyes to express _Not the time_.

"Besides, _I_ would spare time to see you whirling around in that." He chuckled. "I'm guessing _he_ chose it?"

"I'm buussyyy," she called in a sing-song voice. "Besides, shouldn't you be screwing your ' _girlfriend_ ' right now?"

"Rubbing it in isn't going to help."

"You didn't deny it." She smiled victoriously at him, grinning wider when he didn't come back with a retort.

"You're still dressed as a prostitute, or a fucking stripper. Wouldn't you want to go back to that?" He sneered. "Stooping that low? _Again_?"

She clenched her fists against her sides. "Pangborn, I do _not_ need to hear this right now."

"You didn't deny it," he retorted, quoting her own words.

"Pangborn, please."

" _Clarissa_ , please. I'd imagine a girl like you could at least get out of your stripper phase," he raised his voice to express his statement better. He stepped closer to her, grabbing her chin and jerking her face up to meet his gaze. " _Huh?_ That's what I thought, _bitch_."

"Is something going on here?" Jace asked. He stood at the doorway, watching the whole scene roll out. Pangborn jumped back and she rubbed her face, looking down at the ground. "Are you all well, Clarissa?" Pangborn sneered. Jace glared pointedly at him.

"You. Out." He pointed behind him at the hallway. The other man muttered something like ' _baby_ ' as he made his way past Jace. He stayed in the doorway, watching her. "Clarissa?"

Tears started to well up in her emerald eyes, threatening to pour out onto her cheeks. She forced herself to hide them, putting up a strong cover over her weaknesses.

"Yes, I'm alright." She kept her head down as she rushed past him.

Or at least tried.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her back to meet his gaze. She flinched at the contact. "Don't be like this."

"Like what?"

"The _I'm-Fine-Nothing-Happened_ cover. It won't work on me, Clarissa." She yanked her arm back, thrusting it back against her side.

"Nothing happened."

"You're just proving my point, sweetheart. Just look at me." When she didn't, he put both his index and his middle finger underneath her chin and gently lifted her head up. His eyes ran over the red mark Pangborn had left on her pale skin, easily visible to the eye. "Do you need ice?"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. Wayland. I'm alright." He let go and nodded, clearly unconvinced.

"If you say so. It's on the bottom drawer of the fridge, if needed, Clarissa."

"Yes, sir." She looked after him as he reluctantly stepped out of the room, pushing his study door open and disappearing inside. She brought her hand to her face, wincing at the pain of contact on the red surface.

She shuffled into the kitchen, yanking open the refrigerator and grabbing the small ice pack. She put the freezing cold material against Pangborn's mark, numbing the searing pain.

She settled in the parlor, sitting on the couch with the ice on her cheek until Jace's guests turned up at the door. Before opening it, she dashed into the powder room, glancing at the mirror. The mark was almost invisible, but she drew out her express bottle of concealer, covering it up completely.

She hurried to the door, opening it and beckoning all the tall, big built men. All of them were dressed in neat suits, nodding at her and running their eyes over her. The five men filed in, and she glanced out the door. Shiny old fashioned cars were all lined up against the sidewalk. _Classy._

She followed after the men, going into the kitchen and holding up the platters of croissants, baguette and different brunch appetizers. She made her way into the dining room, and settled all the food in the center, arranging it neatly.

"Tell me, Jace," one of the tallest men started. "Who's this lovely lady we have yet to meet?" He looked at her sweetly, smiling. All the men turned to her, and she sent them back a small grin. Her boss sat at the end of the table, with full authority over all of the others.

"This is Clarissa." He wrapped a hand around Clary's waist from his high chair and pulled her towards him, against his side. His hand wandered a bit, lowering and grazing the skin beneath the hem of her dress. Weirdly enough, his hand was warm against her skin, leaving a burning mark up her thigh and under her dress. He approached the top part of her garter belt. She stiffened, clearing her throat awkwardly. He stopped his hand there, and chuckled.

"My new maid," he explained to the men around the table as they looked at them. "She's quite wonderful." He smirked.

"How's Kaelie?" Another man asked. At the mention of his girlfriend's name, Jace stiffened in turn.

"Fine," he answered dryly, clearly hoping to change the subject.

"That's good to know. Have you proposed yet?" Jace's hand stopped dead, and he seemed to be quite uncomfortable about the subject of his girlfriend. A muscle in his jaw stuck out slightly and he bunched up the white napkin in his hand.

"No," he spat out in response.

As if to relax himself, he traced designs and circles on her skin with his fingers, grazing the bottom of her lace panties. The subject changed to how all the other men were doing, mentioning many female names, which Clary assumed were related to them. Jace, though, kept his hand roaming underneath her dress, probably not even aware of his hand's activity.

Nobody told her to leave or do anything, so Clary stayed in the room while all the men talked about things like ' _files_ ' or ' _cases_ ' about some sort of operation. She listened closely, pulling out names like Alec Lightwood and Raphael Santiago. They came up a few times, and all faces, even Jace's, would turn serious.

The men kept talking, but she zoned out. She felt a pat on her ass, bringing her out of her daze. She looked over at Jace, who jerked his head a bit towards a man who was looking at her.

"Tell us, Clarissa," he told her. "What made you work here?"

"Um," she glanced at Jace as she spoke, his expression telling her _Go on_. "Well, I needed a change of scenery." The man who had asked nodded approvingly at her response.

"Interesting," he mused, then the rest of the conversation resumed to small chat. Jace turned to her, while the others talked loudly over them.

"Go make yourself something to eat, sweetheart," he whispered. He slowly removed his hand from under her dress, clearly reluctant. "Don't tell Kaelie about that," he added, putting a long finger to his mouth, covering the smirk on his lips. He took his hand back, reaching for the wine glass in front of him, and sipping graciously.

She hurried out, frantically trying to hide the blush that was lurking underneath her pale skin, about to surface. Frankly, she wasn't hungry. She grabbed one of the oranges from the large fruit basket against the wall on the counter, and made her way outside, towards the garden.

The first time she had come, she had been baffled, looking at the intricate designs of hedges and stone statues arranged perfectly around the big area. Trees surrounding both sides, and in front was a large clearing, leading to a pond. Everything was so beautiful.

Marble statues of men in old Greek robes were positioned on high slabs of stone, towering over passing people. What looked like angels were all lined up on the sides of the paved path, looking down on them. Big, glorious wings were added to them, making them look so brave along with their strong muscle build.

She wandered aimlessly amidst the blooming bushes and pine green colored hedges, finding herself in front of a fountain.

The low stone wall kept the water in, swirly bold engravings decorating the rock. The fountain was made with three different levels, from largest to smallest by height. Each was connected to the main structure, and they all had a small pool of water, along with the water sprays flowing out. Flower pots were placed around the fountain's patio, making it even more like a real fairy tale.

 _This whole thing was a fairy tale._

~ **FEEDBACK IS WELCOME** ~

 _Short, I know, but I ran out of time and had to finish quick! Sorry! Forgive me pleaassee._

 _ **Drop me a review?**_


	7. I'll Take Care of It

❤️My dear readers❤️,

Thank you for all the support! I love coming back to reviews, favorites, and follows! I appreciate all of the encouragement! **Review Answers:**

 **Niamh x(Guest):** You will definitely learn more about all their pasts and what happens with Kaelie is secret 😈 And about containing Izzy, Simon and Magnus (ect.), some of them are to be introduced later, but slightly OOC. If you'd like to know more, you can privately message me! Thank you for the review!

 **!ALSO!** My update schedule is to be soon up on my profile, if you're interested in seeing it. Now let us read!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. But I do own the plot ;)

 **Chapter 7:**

 _I'll Take Care of It_

He crept into the house, gun up against his chest. Two fingers gestured forward for his team to follow him into the building. The creak of a floorboard stopped him dead. He pushed himself against the plaster wall, creeping all the way towards the hallway with his back glued on it.

He knew what was behind the door. He fisted up his hand in signal to stop. Silence eerily scared all the noise away. He cocked the gun slowly, trying to minimize the sound of it. After the click, he padded into the room.

The man's back was to him, sitting comfortably on a plush leather seat. Thinking it would be more fun this way, he drew out his fox dagger, and crouched. He stalked towards the chair until he was behind it. He shot up, as quiet as a panther.

He had the knife in front of the man's throat in a bare second, and before anyone could watch his movements, it was slit.

The head lolled back, silently swaying a bit. He slid the slightly bloody knife against the surface of his black jeans, wiping off any trace of what had happened. The red mark was barely visible against the fabric, and he slid the weapon back into his combat boots.

With a wave of his leather glove-clothed hand, the team came forwards, grabbing the body and heaving it out of the house. A group of other agents grabbed all the paper on the desk, and searched the room for some trace of surveillance of any sort.

Once the coast was clear, they marched out of the house, the body wrapped in a big black trash bag. They all jumped into the black SUVs, driving out without a noise.

The job was done.

.w.W.w.

Without Mr. Wayland, the house was silent. Maids did nothing, apart from Clary, who hurried around the house speedily, hoping to get everything done by the time he got back. The clicks and clanks of her heels were the only sounds filling the brisk manor.

Normally, she would be on her break right now, but she had decided to wait until she could have the whole afternoon to herself without interruption.

Loud boots echoed through the hallway all the way to her. A group of men, with her boss walking in front of them as a leader, practically stomped through the hall. They were all dressed in black from head to toe, drenched, and had serious, but grim, expressions on their faces. All their faces looked empty, as if they had erased all emotion from their life.

She hurried in front of him. She said, "Mr. Wayland, you'll be happy to know—"

" _Get out of my way_ ," he growled, pushing her to the side with one arm like she was air. Everyone marched past her towards his study, leaving big mud marks all over the carpet.

She angrily walked over to a cabinet, grabbing the cleaning material of the shelves. She crouched down next to the stains, sitting on her knees. There were at least two dozen marks all over the ground. She was partly confused but also angry of him not respecting her. _Asshole_.

She scrubbed away, getting scratch marks on her palms from excessive rubbing against the hard carpet. Several minutes later, she heard footsteps enter the hall. The sound of her scrubbing filled the space once again, drowning the sound of the other breathing in the room.

"You don't have to do that," a low, husky voice called. She kept her head low as she cleaned the stains, fully aware of who was talking to her. She passed an arm over her forehead, wiping away sweat.

"It's my job," she snapped. She scrubbed harder, cleaning away her anger, but it stayed, just like the stains.

"I'll get a new rug."

"I'll take care of it."

"Now, who makes the decisions?" That shut her up. She moved on to the next two mud shoe stains, her arms starting to ache from the frantic moving. "You don't speak to me like that, unless I ask you to. You can go up to your room until it's time to make dinner. More like, you _will_ go to your room."

"But—"

"No buts. Do as I say, Ms. Morgenstern. Just leave the supplies there," he added, before walking off to his study again, she supposed. She dropped the product on the carpet, leaving her work area a mess. She stomped up the stairs and shut the door with a loud slam.

"You don't have to act like a five-year-old," Jace shouted from downstairs. She sighed in frustration, dropping herself on her bed. She thoughtlessly started braiding her hair, slowly making a french braid trickle down her back. She attached it without realizing.

She rested for a couple hours, waking up at the perfect time to get dinner ready. She crept down the creaky steps of the grand staircase, stalking silently into the kitchen.

In record time, she had a whole meal prepared, peppered with gourmet ingredients. She quickly flew into her boss' office, dropping it soundlessly onto the wooden desk, and swaying out in a nanosecond. She didn't get the hospitality of even a glance from him.

She drifted towards the garden, her mind slowly wandering away from reality.

.w.W.w.

Jace found himself looking back into the cases he had, well, _'taken care of_ ''. He glanced over every face, every name, finding guilt being unapparent in his body.

He shut the binders closed. He pushed memories away from his mind every time he sliced a throat, every time he pulled a trigger, every time he filled a drink with poison.

Without notice, Clarissa practically ran into the room, her dress billowing around her small figure. She placed the platter down without a sound, and quickly drifted out into the hallway again. She made no noise, making it as if she had never came at all.

Her dinner tonight was more simple and smaller, as if she had made it in a rush. He ate in anyways, the taste being as good as anything gourmet or better.

A phone ring broke him out of his daze. He grabbed the phone and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" He asked, leaning back in his chair.

" _Hello, as well, Jonathan."_ The voice that was _oh-so-_ familiar chilled his bones. He sat up straight, accidentally pushing a coffee mug over his desk. It shattered into pieces, coffee flowing out of it like blood.

"Alec?"

" _Oh, how wonderful of you to remember me._ "

"What do you want?" He asked, trying to fend of the fright out of his voice. He clutched the phone tightly to his ear, his knuckles turning white from the grip.

" _I already have what I'm looking for. Your most prized possession, at the moment. Your little doll. Your sweet strawberry,"_ the static voice droned on, deadly calm as flowed through the phone. No sound echoed in the background, giving him no hint of where he was.

" _The only person who cares just a bit about you. I have her right here."_ Her? Kaelie was useless to him, nobody would even think to take her. " _Right in the palm of my hand. I'm in the garden. Meet me, or she goes kaput along with her firecracker hair."_ He dropped the phone onto the table with a thud. Clarissa. She was just another pawn to the game, to Alec. But she was a person.

He pulled a desk drawer open, grabbing the long, silenced pistol from its home. What he would do to spare another's life, apart from his own.

.w.W.w.

Black engulfed her. The chilly breath along her neck sent hairs flying up upon her back. Her hands were tightly cuffed with a rough rope, cutting into her skin. Pain seared through her body as she struggles against it.

"Oh, don't try, sweetheart," the man called. Jace would say that word with such grace, now it was just the last phrase before a murder, it seemed. She could feel the smirk in his voice as he spoke. "He'll be coming, right about... _now_."

As if timed, boots clunked onto the stone patio. "I'd drop the gun now, Jonathan." He felt the man's hand grab her by the waist, and pull her against him. "Wouldn't want to hurt little miss Morgenstern, would ya?"

She heard another boot clunk, and with a quick _whoosh_ , she felt cold metal burn her throat. She gagged at the freezing sensation. "Alec, we both know you won't hurt her," Jace protested, but just as he said it, ' _Alec_ ' moved the knife, or at least that's what she thought it was, a bit, creating a thin slice in her skin. She gasped, crying out.

Alec's chilly laugh tickled her neck. "Watch me. And if I were to slice her neck, I'd do it before killing you, just so you'd have a good show."

"What do you want from me? In exchange for her alive." His voice was tight with stress, and she knew he still had the gun in his hand.

"Oh, simple. The codes."

"No." His immediate response made Alec chuckle against her, shaking her. She couldn't register all the different things that were happening around her, along with ' _codes_ '.

"Then, I suggest starting to look for a new maid, _Mr. Wayland,"_ he sneered, the sarcastic tone dripping from his voice.

The sudden noise of a dozen guns being cocked all around her made Clary jump. Jace's voice soothed her, even as it was eerily calm.

"Did you actually think I would come without back-up, _Mr. Lightwood_? Get her to my office immediately." She heard muffling of a voice and she was pulled away, her blindfold only being removed after she listened to the closing of a door. Relief flowed through her as her restraints were slit off, scratches being apparent on her wrists.

The same man who had helped her the night of the club stood before her, black sunglasses on his face.

"Come with me," he said, his voice low and empty of emotion. He walked ahead of her in a robot manner, his leg rhythm always in check. He opened the door of Jace's off, side-stepping to let her pass. "He'll be with you in a couple minutes."

He closed the door, and she could see the shadows of his shoes under the door, guarding the room. What had happened back there? She had been practically assaulted. She traced a finger lightly over the fresh cut on her neck, wincing as it stung like poison.

 _"Daddy, what are you doing?" She asked, as her father quickly ran around the house, boarding up windows with wood boards. "Dad?"_

 _"Sweetie, stay in the backroom with your mother," he harshly told her, once again pushing furniture against doors and windows. "Tell her they're here."_

 _"Who?" She asked quietly, hoping to poke at the source._

 _"Go, now, Clarissa!" He shouted, slamming a nail in the wood barriers. She scurried into the backroom, where her mother was stuffing books into a bag._

 _"Mom? They're here," she called, panicking even without an idea of what was happening. Her mother swung her face to face her adolescent daughter's gaze, her eyes full of worry and panic. She flung her head back, this time rapidly grabbing books off the shelves, emptying boxes of paper and sliding them into the bag along._

 _She watched as her mother's eyes exploded in tears as she threw things into the bag, almost ripping book spines and shredding paper herself. She mumbled repeatedly, 'why, why, why'. All she could do was watch her, her body not moving, unlike her thoughts, which raced through her head._

 _Her father suddenly shouted, "Jocelyn! They're here!" Her mother's shaking hands grasped her daughter's shoulders, shivering._

 _"Baby, it's okay. We'll find you, baby. It's alright." She pulled her against her chest, burying her face in her crimson red hair._

 _"Mom, what's going on?" She asked, her voice quivering as she worriedly listened for the answer._

 _"I'm so sorry, baby." Her mother pulled back, and she opened up a wood box from the bookshelf. She pulled out a small pistol. Her mother turned to the hallway. Clary hid behind her, clutching onto her like she was the only thing left._

 _In the hallway, her father was anxiously pushing himself against the door, pushing more furniture against it. He fell on the floor, and the door was yanked open. He backed up on his hands, moving away from the men who filtered into the house._

 _He started to protest, but a silenced bullet shut off the voice. Jocelyn's hands shakily lifted the gun straight ahead towards the men. A tall, old man with blonde, turning white, hair was standing there, a pistol pointed right at her mother._

 _"S-Stop," she stammered, her finger hesitantly approaching the trigger. Without another word, she collapsed to the ground, her daughter coming along with her. She sobbed, water crystalizing her pale face. She was only sixteen, nothing made sense. She had never seen these men._

 _The blonde man stared at her small figure, before gesturing to his men to leave the house. They slammed the door shut, leaving the little girl crying over her losses. What she would do to get back at those killers._

She grasped her head as memories returned, blazing her mind with pain. Seven years will never change a life. She closed her eyes, lowering her head into her hands. Jace entered the room, looking even better than before.

"Sweetheart," he tilted his head to the side slightly, his voice sympathetic. "That man won't come back again. If he comes close to you again, I'll be sure he won't wake up the next morning. Is that clear?"

She just nodded. _What kind of job involves people taking their maids hostage for_ codes _?_ He ran a hand through his golden hair. "Clarissa? I expect you to answer my questions."

"I expected to not be taken hostage, but we don't get what we always expect, yes?" She snapped, anger taking over heated confusion.

"Relax, feisty," he said, chuckling. A serious expression quickly ghosted up the amusement that had once been on his face. "Do you need a bandage on that?" He gestured to his neck, imitating the place where she had been cut.

"I'm fine," she stiffly responded, thrusting out her chin, receiving a burning sensation on her throat due to her skin stretching over her neck. She winced, and Jace caught it at the right moment.

"That's what I thought." He reached into one of his desk drawers, and walked over to her chair. He crouched, lowering his head to the height of her neck. He showed her a roll of bandages he had gotten, and he slowly undid the clasp graciously.

"This might hurt," he whispered, his breath hot and thick, tickling her neck. He slowly wrapped fabric piece around the cut, making her suck in a breath at the contact. " _Shh_ ," he consoled her quietly. He continued wrapping her cut, making sure not to hurt her.

Once he was done, he moved his head and hands back. She smiled despite her anger riling up in her. She giggled a bit. "Kiss it better?" She mocked, grinning foolishly.

She expected him to scoff or back away, but he did the opposite. He reached behind her ear, drawing a loose strand of red hair behind it. He lowered his head, kissing her neck above the bandage, leaving a burning mark on her skin.

The tender sensation of his soft lips on her skin made her shudder, with both excitement and agitation. The smoldering heat of his kiss still lingered as he removed his mouth from her neck. His lips parted, and his eyes slowly wandered down to her lips.

They stayed there for a second before he cleared his throat, standing back up straight. "There you go, Clarissa." He seemed to try to occupy himself with something, but the look in his eyes showed her that he was thinking of something completely different.

She made her way out, confusion, but for a different reason now, clouding her thoughts. Oh, my.

.w.W.w.

He sat in the dark room, making out the black silhouette tied to the chair in front of him. He watched as his head lolled forwards, dark blood running out from the corner of his frowning mouth. His hair was a mess, a black eye crowning his blue crystals.

Jace placed his elbows on his knees, leaning forwards for a better look. The dim swaying lightbulb above them let him watch the blood trickle down his cheek, sticking to his jaw before sliding beneath his chin or dropping on the floor in red droplets.

"Rate this wonderful experience on a scale from one to ten," Jace said, leaning back into the wooden chair. "I asked you a question," he barked, after several seconds of silence.

"I don't give a fuck about you wanting a response," he spat out, blood spurting out of his mouth.

"Oh, Alec, you sound too enthusiastic for your own good," he responded, sarcasm engraved in the retort. "I would've killed you by now if it weren't for the lady sleeping under this roof."

"She must enjoy blindfolds in the bedroom as well, ey?"

"I'd be happy to forget her for a minute, if you speak like that again."

"Oh, you wouldn't dare."

"You'd be surprised."

The man let out a throaty chuckle, coughing up a bit of red liquid. "How much for each night?"

"I told you, I do not sleep with her," he said again, this time his tone becoming a bit harsher. Alec's eyes rolled up a bit, his eyes slimming into slits. A sly grin spread over his bloody mouth, the shadows of his smirk apparent under the dim light.

"Oh, I see how it is. You just _fuck_ her." Jace sprung from his chair, grabbing the man's throat. He gagged, jerking his head back. He gripping tighter, feeling the muscles under his skin start to clench under the pressure.

"Wouldn't want to repeat what happened earlier, would we?" He said, his voice dry, eerily flat. Alec shook his head with all the freedom from the grasp he had left. Jace subsided, dropping his hand back to his side. "That's what I thought. Don't get your hopes up for dinner," he added for good measure.

He strode to heavy metal door, turning around one last time before leaving.

"I think I'll leave the light on. You'll be able to watch yourself bleed in its reflection." He yanked it closed without another word, stalking away with the loud clank of his boots against the steel floor.

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOME~**

Thank you all for reading! I tried making it a little longer this time, more then 3,2K.

I'll try to approach 5K for the next one!

 _Drop me a review?_


	8. Morgenstern Recuperation

❤️My dear readers❤️,

Hiii! Early update for y'all, though it's short. But, still here. Aha! Anyways, thank you all for the reviews! They mean so much to me. It takes barely a minute to leave a 'lil nice word, and claps to all who did! I'll personally respond to most reviews at the bottom, so stay tuned! Xoxo

 **!ALSO!** _If anybody is interested, sneak peeks of the following chapters will be available... Make me smile and you'll get one for sure_ ❤️

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Only the plot ;)

 **Chapter 8:**

 _Morgenstern Recuperation_

" _Ah!_ " He screamed, his shrill voice pounding in his own ear with every punch or cut the man gave him. The rope handles around his wrists scratched deeper into the bleeding slit as he shook with pain and fear.

"And this is for the little girl," the man in black spat, slapping his cheek, leaving a burning red mark on the pale skin. "And her mother," he whispered, giving him a clean punch on his bare chest. After coughing out blood, he grunted.

"Why is Jace asking you to do this?" He groaned out. A devilish smile spread across the man's face. The dim light only enabled him to see the black silhouette of the man. He chuckled.

"He didn't. I'm doing this on my own will." Alec shuddered with cold and pain. His restraints clawed at his flesh, making him wince.

"Why?"

"You killed my family." He pulled his fist back for another punch, and it all went black.

.w.W.w.

The rest of the week went past slowly, silence creeping up behind everybody. Jace disappeared during the day, hiding in the basement. Cries and screams could be heard during the night, shrill noises clouding up hallways and stairs. Whenever Clary _would_ see him, he'd keep his head low, only acknowledging her with a low ' _Clarissa_ '.

The pitter-patter of the rain against the windows was the only sound echoing in the manor. She sat on the loveseat in the parlor, her head against the cold glass. All the droplets would zig-zig down, then join another. They would slow down, sliding graciously. Helping another can ease the pathway down.

Feeling exhaustion starting to filter itself in her mind, she stood up reluctantly. In the kitchen, she started the buzzing coffee machine. The round black coffee bowl filled up slowly. Before a loud beeping could hurt her eardrums, she picked up the jug, walking her way over to the other side of the room for mugs.

A hard surface brought her out of her tired daze. Before she could stop it, the coffee lurched forwards, splashing all over white fabric.

"Crap, crap, _crap_! I'm so sorry—" she stammered before a soft finger was brought to her lips. She looked up. A disheveled blonde head was staring back at her, smiling.

"It's fine," Jace said, chuckling. Before he could say anything more, she hurried to the paper towels, grabbing one and wetting it in the sink. She shuffled back to him, placing the wet material over the stain. She tried to absorb the coffee, as it slowly trailed down his shirt. She knotted up the fabric, bringing it up to clean it better.

"I feel as if it would be a bit more easier, and _pleasant_ ," he added. "For you if I would just take off my shirt." She glared up at the smirking man. Without listening to her protests, he brought his hands to the hem of his white shirt, bringing it up to remove it as he revealed stunning biceps.

She quickly trailed her eyes down to the floor to hide her gaping, but found herself eyeing a _perfectly_ defined v-line **{my real weakness omfg}**.

"Liking the view, sweetheart?" He chuckled. She narrowed her eyes at him, shoving the wet shirt against his chest.

"Deal with it yourself," she muttered, stomping away with the now half-empty coffee jug. He _tsk_ ed, and she whipped her head around to see him. He extended out his index finger, curving it inwards as signal for her to come back. The muscles in his forearms flexed with every movement, luring her back into her daze.

She walked back, placing her hands on her hips. "What?" She asked, sighing.

"Oh, don't act disappointed. I know many, _many_ , other women that would die to be washing my coffee-stained shirt."

"Then I guess you don't need me," she retorted, whipping her hair over her shoulder in one motion.

"I do love having a gorgeous redhead at my service." He grinned, crossing his muscled arms over his chest and leaning against the counter. _He looked absolutely delicious._

"I do love tending an attractive blonde man's problems," she said sarcastically, smiling flirtatiously.

"You never cease to surprise me, Ms. Morgenstern," he responded, his voice matching her tone. He walked closer to her, positioning both his arms on the counter on either side of her. She had to raise her head slightly to have a good look at him. She gripped the counter to stop herself from barking an insult back at him.

"You're an asshole," she whispered, sending him a fake sultry smile. He brought his face closer to hers, his breath hot and thick against her face.

"Get a fucking room." They both whipped their heads towards the voice, finding Sebastian leaning against the door frame. "What? Don't seem to enthusiastic to see me, kiddos."

Jace backed up, grabbing his shirt from the counter island. "Fuck off, Sebastian," he growled. Clary ran her hands through her hair. She patted down her skirt, setting it back correctly.

"Hoping to get some ass, did ya?" He sneered. "Kaelie's not enough?" He walked over to the fridge, grabbing a wine bottle. He popped it open and poured it into a glass. He sipped from it casually and smirked as he watched both of them.

Jace pulled a cigarette box out of his pocket. He lit it, putting it between his teeth as it burned the tip. He pulled it out of his mouth, and blew out the smoke. "Clarissa, we'll speak later." She huffed with dismissal and pushed past Sebastian.

He swung his hand out, slapping her butt. She caught his wrist, and dug her fingernails into his skin. "Try that again, and it won't end well," she warned. He just grinned foolishly. "Pervert," she muttered.

She shuffled to her bedroom, and slammed the door shut. Men were confusing.

.w.W.w.

"What do you want, Sebastian?" Jace asked, blowing out the cigarette fumes in front of his face.

"I heard you have Alec," he mused. He continued to sip from the wine glass like it was a casual subject.

"Why does it interest you?" He questioned, drawing another breath from the cigarette. He leaned against the counter, watching his younger brother with curious eyes.

"Oh, just good money, is all," he shrugged it off.

"I have no intention of passing him on to someone else," Jace responded harshly. "Alright? Drop it, and go back to your hole of a home."

He stared back, holding both his hands up innocently. "Brother, why the sudden change in temper directed towards me?"

"Oh, piss off, ' _Brother_ '," he spat out. He drew in another quick breath, blowing it out towards the younger man.

"Gonna call security on me?" He said, pouting. When he noticed his brother's deadly stare, amusement left his face. "I'll be back," he added. He stomped out.

Right before leaving the room, he called over his shoulder, "Save me some of that redhead!"

 _"Sebastian_. _"_

"Jesus. Alright."

.w.W.w.

"Are you sure this will work, sir?" The boy asked, glancing over all the steps in the plan. The man seemed focused, reviewing all the stages thoroughly. He nodded quickly. When he looked up from all the maps, his eyes lit up with anticipation and excitement.

"Positive." His gaze returned to the papers, drawing his fingers over his line of travel. His eyes darted to the marking ' _KILL PLACE_ '. A grin spread over his lips. "Someone needs to stop that bastard. And if nobody else can, then I will. I'll take back what belongs to me."

' _MORGENSTERN RECUPERATION'_.

"Don't worry, Sister, I'm coming. It's only a matter of time."

.w.W.w.

Clary sat quietly on her bed, reading through one of the books she had found in the parlor. She fiddled with a strand of her hair. She let her mind drift off from the book, finding herself quietly anticipating Jace's return.

She absentmindedly glanced at the door every few minutes, until she heard the loud noise of footsteps approaching her room. She practically jumped at the noise. The door swung open quietly, revealing Jace.

"Hey," was all he said. "Sorry about Sebastian."

"No, no, it's fine," she stammered. He closed the door, and walked in further into the room. He slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and looked at her. She had changed into a pair of dark blue high-waisted jeans and faux leather halter crop top. His eyes roamed her whole body.

"I owe you an apology about what I was about to do earlier," he explained. She stood up, putting the book on her bedside table. She smoothed her hands down nervously on her jeans. "It's not something that would be good for my career, you see." She nodded.

"You're so infuriating! Like, first you boss me around like I'm an object then you're practically trying to get in my pants! Choose!" She was fuming, smoke practically coming out of her ears.

He threw an arm around her waist and yanked her towards him, covering her lips with his. At first, she was tight and resisting against him, almost pushing him away, but as he slowly made out with her, she let him.

She curved her back into him, hungrily kissing him with all the sexual tension that had spread between. He leaned forwards into her, and she moved with him. His hands left sizzling marks on her skin as his hands sneaked down to her thighs. He hauled her legs up easily, and she wrapped them around his waist. He moved her against the wall, the only thing holding her up apart from his grasp on her legs.

The slow kiss had morphed into a deeper make out, her hands running through his hair, his hands gripping her lustfully. She pulled back, gasping for breath. They were both panting and in their eyes was nothing but excitement and anticipation.

"Should we really be doing this?" She breathed. "I mean, don't you have a fiancé or something?" He chuckled, his body shaking against her with every laugh.

"She did it for the money, and my father had forced me into it. Besides, you seem to be enjoying this," he said, smirking. "I think I am, too." Her breathing became a bit labored.

"Jace," she whispered, staring at his plump lips. He raised an eyebrow. "Shut up."

She yanked him forwards, forgetting all about the words he was saying. He bit on her lip, and she couldn't stop the small moan coming out of her lips. He kissed under her chin, then moved under her ear. He peppered kisses down her neck, biting slightly on the dent between her neck and shoulder.

" _Pourquoi? Moi, je pensais que t'aimais ca,"_ he whispered against her skin. _Why? I thought you liked this._ Without thinking, she lifted her head, giving him better access to her neck. " _N'est-ce pas?_ " _No?_

He moved his lips behind her ear, kissing around her earlobe. She gasped as he bit the skin beneath it. " _Tu me rends fou, la facon dont tu rigoles, dont tu rougis, dont tu me parles._ " _You drive me crazy, the way you laugh, the way you blush, the way you talk to me._ She moaned quietly with every bite and lick of his tongue.

"Jace," she breathed. "Stop teasing."

"Oh, sweetheart, I've only just started."

And well, you know, it went on from there.

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

So... I ran out of time and I broke my promise about 'approaching 5K for the next chapter'. 2,3K is all I could get done. My apologies.

Forgive meeee. Anyways, before anybody asks why it **wasn't** a full lemon: I didn't know if anybody wanted that yet, but if you do, leave me a comment in a review! I was just playin' it safe.

ANYWHO, thanks for reading! And praise me for an early short chapter. XOXO

 _Drop me a review?_

 **Review answers for the beloved:**

 **alexis ash234** **-** I'm glad you enjoy it that much! And your wish is my command ;)

 **Guest –** I'm glad you like the Clace moments, and Alec's mystery is to be found out later...

 **Page1of365 –** Definitely! Though, it will get much more intense as the plot rolls out... Also, I love your username so much ❤️

 **Antisocialpessimist –** I'm so happy you like it so much. Your little review made me smile so much!

 _Thank you to all the other reviews as well! Till next time!_


	9. Beds and Showers

❤️My dear readers❤️,

Hi! Sorry for updating so late, and my updating schedule is so off now, my apologies. Also, huge lemon approaching. Somebody wanted a long, detailed one, so here you go! Thank you to all of you who reviewed, favorited, or followed! Muah!

 **!ALSO!** _I'm currently looking for a beta for this story, so don't hesitate to PM me if you're interested! Or review. Whatever._

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. But I do own Jardineto Stan Smiths. _Check 'em out._

 **IF WE MAKE IT TO 100 FOLLOWERS WITH THE CHAPTER I WILL WRITE A HUGE CHAPTER FOR YA'LL AS THANKS**

 **Chapter 9:**

 _Beds and Showers_

 _._

 **Warning** **:** _FULL of Adult Scenes_

 _(READ AT YOUR OWN RISK ;))_

A soft rustling brought her out of her slumber. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a Greek God looking at her. She closed her eyes, blinding by the warm sunlight coming through her curtains. She moved closer to him, laying her head and hand on his chest.

"It's not polite to stare at someone while they sleep," she muttered. He let out a small 'Mhm' before pushing up on his arms and putting himself over her. She opened her eyes fully. She ran her hands down his rock-hard muscles, slightly trailing her nails on them. He groaned sexily.

The duvet only covered the lower part of his back, and she could clearly see his arousal under the covers. He growled huskily and leaned forwards to her neck. He kissed it roughly, biting it with the tip of his teeth. She threw her head back on the pillow as his lips moved to her earlobe.

"The things I want to do to you," he growled, licking it in one smooth motion. "I want to tell you all of them," he whispered. His erection moved closer to her entrance, and she squirmed at the thought.

"No," she breathed. He moved his head back to meet her gaze.

"Show me."

Something clicked in his eyes, and all calm disappeared. Need, urgency, desire, fogged them up. He grabbed her wrists and held them above her head. He kissed down her throat, lowering between her breasts. He moved lower, grazing his teeth lightly against her stomach. He let go of her wrists, now grasping her thighs. His mouth lowered to her slick arousal, kissing the inside of both her thighs, before gripping the underneath of them, and pushing them up and back.

With a flick of his tongue, he made her squirm under his grip.

"Don't stop," she moaned as he licked it from top to bottom. He sucked on her clit, and she arched her body in ecstasy. She grabbed his hair, pushing his head closer to her center. He groaned, and slipped his tongue into her. She pulled at his golden locks, seeming to hold on to it for dear life. She wrapped her legs around his neck as he continued.

"Jace," she breathed, tightening her grip. He licked up and down her clit as he ran his fingers down her thighs. "I'm c-clo..." She didn't finish her sentence as she found her release. He licked her from top to bottom, then placed on kiss there before moving up. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

He crawled towards her, taking his time as he licked her bellybutton all the way to her breasts. Kissing them both briefly, he kissed up her neck and to her ear.

"Was that a good enough demonstration?" He whispered. He caressed her cheek, moving a hair behind her ear. She stayed quiet, her breathing ragged. "No? Your screams tend to make me think otherwise."

She flipped them over, straddling his lap. She bent down, kissing his toned chest all the way up his throat and chin. "I'm going to take a shower. Care to join me?" She asked flirtatiously. A smirk spread on his lips, and he ran his thumbs down her sides.

"Perhaps," he whispered. She got off him, swinging her hips from side to side as she made her way to the bathroom door. She grabbed the frame, turning around one last time.

"What are you waiting for?" She questioned teasingly. She turned back, walking farther into the bathroom. She heard the rustle of sheets, and suddenly two arms wrapped around her waist from behind. They stood in front of the mirror, and she could see, and feel, him kissing her shoulder. He moved his hand up, cupping one of her breasts and covering the other with her arm.

He bit the skin between her neck and shoulder, and she gripped the counter for support. He looked into the mirror, and his eyes glinted with mischief. She felt his erection against her behind, and she automatically grinded against it.

He bit back a groan, literally. She gasped when his teeth tugged at her skin. "Come on," he muttered against it.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the shower. He turned it on, the hot water scorching both of their bodies. She took the soap, sliding it slowly down his muscular back. He sucked in a breath as she traced a tattoo on his shoulder blade. Simple, sharp, black lines swirled around his skin, and her fingers followed.

She washed off his back, and he let out a breath. She moved in front of him for the water, and he traced her sides. When he arrived at her small wolf tattoo on her hip, he stopped.

"What's this?" He whispered.

"No pack. I fly solo," she mumbled.

He moved his lips to her earlobe. "Bummer, we would've made a great pair." She felt his grin in his tone, and she turned around.

He grabbed her waist, pulling her whole body flush against his. He looked in her eyes for a split second, before hungrily attacking her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head lower. He groaned against her lips, and she leaned into him. His hands roamed lower, grabbing her butt. She jumped a bit, and he grabbed her thighs, hoisted them up against his hips. He moved her against the wall.

He held her upper thighs, and that was the only thing holding her up. She gasped as he tugged at her bottom lip. She cupped his cheeks, bringing his face closer to hers. She moaned against his lips, and she felt him already aroused. He cupped her center, making her gasp. He slipped one finger in her, always keeping contact with her lips. When he pumped the second one in, she squirmed under his grip.

He moved to her neck, making her throw her head back in ecstasy. "Jace," she breathed out between moans. "T-take... m-me." He groaned in turn as she bucked her hips forwards to meet his. He pumped in and out all three fingers, and he felt her clamp her walls around them. She moaned loudly as she found her release, and she watched Jace take his fingers out, and one by one lick them clean. She tried to regain her breath as he tasted her.

Without waiting, he thrusted into her. She clamped her eyes shut as she grabbed onto his shoulders. Not letting her have time to settle, he pounded into her, earning scratch marks down his back. He grabbed her hips, slamming into her with every motion.

" _F-fuck,_ " she screamed. "J-Jace." He hit her spot every time, and she proceeded to biting his shoulder to stay quiet. She raked her nails up her back with pain and pleasure, probably making him bleed. He kept going, shaking both of them against the shower wall. Her moans and screams drowned the noise of the water running in the background. All the sexual tension that had been building up was shoved into sex, and not gently.

She was on the edge, and with the last grunt and slam into her, she lost it. She screamed as she found her release, and Jace followed shortly after. He leaned against her, both panting.

"Crap, crap, crap," Jace started muttering against her shoulder. "No condom."

"I'm on the pill," she mumbled through ragged breaths. He looked back up, and he kissed her shoulder.

"Nobody wants little Jaces running around." He chuckled, and she realized it was the only time he'd ever laughed genuinely.

He placed her back down, to her disappointment, and rubbed soap all over her. He peppered kisses all over her body.

She walked out, wrapping a very short towel around her. He wrapped one around his waist loosely, and it drooped dangerously low. Before leaving, while she brushed her hair, he said, "You have the day off."

He walked out, leaving her confused. She walked to her wardrobe, slipping on a black, waist lace, bodycon with dark red suede ankle strap heels. If she was going to be allowed to wear something else then her uniform, she would use it to her advantage.

She walked down the stairs, earning looks from surrounding bodyguards. It hurt every time she moved her legs, as they were sore.

As she arrived in the main entrance, she noticed Kaelie waiting there. She couldn't try harder to look like a hooker. She had a short red dress, a tight black cover up, pushing out her breasts. She had black fishnet stockings and black thigh boots. She didn't even dress classy.

She strutted over to Clary, her fake blonde hair moving in waves. "Do you know where Jace is?" She squeaked. Her voice was like nails against a chalkboard. The girl looked over her entire dress, and back at her simple makeup.

"Don't know," she responded. She seemed annoyed, the way she snapped her blood red nail polish covered fingers.

"Don't you work as a house cleaner? Why are you dressed like that?" She had a disgusted look on her face, and Clary could clearly see why Jace didn't like her.

"It's my day off." Kaelie huffed, walking away with her ugly heels stomping behind. Clary went to other way, towards the garage. She made eye contact with the bodyguard at its door, and he let her pass without a word.

She took out a Mercedes Benz SL550 convertible, slipping in it. She was going to do shopping of her own.

.w.W.w.

A knock at his office door interrupted his work. Keeping calm, trying not to give away his anticipation of Clarissa entering, he muttered an emotionless, "Come in."

Dressed in the most feminist-degrading clothes, Kaelie stood at her door, flirtatiously twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger. She strutted to his desk.

"Jacie," she mused. Her expression turned suddenly disgusted. "What's that?" She pointed to somewhere on his neck.

Honestly confused, he questioned, "What?" She grabbed something from her bag in fury, shoving a small mirror into his hand. He moved it to see his neck. A fresh rosy hickey was on his neck, and he couldn't stop the smirk from coming onto his lips.

Kaelie stomped loudly, the noise of her heels reverberating in the office. "Jacie!"

"I burned myself. It's nothing." She pouted in response.

"Jacie, if you're seeing another woman, then, this," she said, gesturing between the two of them. "Is over. I don't want to do that to you."

"I don't think this is working out very well, Kaelie. If you don't trust me with a burn, I can't trust you." He shrugged carelessly. She had a horrified look on her face. She yanked her mirror back.

"How can you be so cool about this? We've been together for five months! Five months _wasted,_ Jacie!"

"Oh, well." She huffed, and stomped around. She hit his mug onto the ground in rage, and he sat back as he watched her run around angrily. She slammed a vase on the ground.

"Asshole! Fucker! _Cheater_! _Liar_!" She yelled, raising her octaves to shrieks. "Asshole! I _loved_ you!" _More like my money._ She stomped out, slamming the door with all her force, which wasn't a lot.

He sighed in achievement, and brought his face in front of the bathroom's mirror, examining the hickey. He turned, noticing starting red lines, who disappeared underneath his shirt. He smirked.

She's fierce, that one. And he liked it. A lot.

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

Sooo, super long lemon. I hope you liked it. Next time I'll make them shorter, unless there are requests for otherwise. Anyways, my updating schedule is completely random now. I gave up.

 _Anyways_ , I went to see Finding Dory. I died every time we saw baby Dory, my gawd. Probably one of my favorite animated movie. **What about you? Favorite animated movie**. Come at me.

Sorry for the size of this chapter, it was supposed to be longer, but I kinda dazed out at the end. Anyways, hope you liked it! Till next time! Xoxo

 _Drop me a review?_


	10. Lighten Up

❤️My dear readers❤️,

HOLY COW! 100 and + followers! I can't believe you guys. I appreciate it so much, I can't even explain. I'm glad you guys like the story so much! It's one of my first stories EVER, and I didn't expect you all to like it. Don't think I'm not grateful you do! **Also,** I had promised a huge chapter. **READ BELOW.**

BEFORE YOU JUDGE ON THE SIZE OF THE CHAPTER: I am going to France this afternoon, and I was anxious to get this up before leaving. Of course, the next chapter will be a continuation of this one, probably from 3K-5K, like this one. My apologies.

Thank you all for the reviews, support, and follows!

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments.

 **Chapter 10:**

 _Lighten Up_

She slipped out of the car, her shopping bag in her hand. She opened the garage door, and walked into the manor. The house was silent, apart from the heater in the parlor, its purring familiar. She walked down the hall in her heels, peeking in Jace's office to see if he was there. It was empty.

She climbed the big staircase, finding Jace at a small desk in his bedroom. The room's walls were black. He had a plush king bed, the covers made of lavender silk. The duvet was fluffy and white and neatly folded. There was barely any decoration in his room, apart from of big hook on the wall. It seemed there used to be a painting there, but it had been taken down. His furniture was always white or black, dull.

He hadn't heard her, as he was on the phone. She quietly came behind his chair, running his hands down his shoulders and onto his chest. She leaned her head to his free ear. She kissed behind his ear, and she heard him suck in a breath. On the other end of the line, she heard a male voice call, "Boss?"

She bit his earlobe lightly, tugging it gently. He groaned, and he gripped the edge of his desk for support. "Pangborn, I think I have to go," he made out, his voice uneven. Her fingers began to skillfully undo his dress shirt buttons. The mention of her ex's name made her want to continue even more.

"But, sir, we need to plan." Once a few buttons had been undone, she slipped her hands in his shirt, sliding her hands down his muscled chest, and bringing them back up while slightly raking her nails upon it. He groaned again, this time his voice laced with struggle and desire.

"Pangborn, we can do this later," he grunted out.

"We can't really, sir—"

He was starting to get impatient. "Pangborn, it's an order. Goodbye." He hung up, flinging his phone on his desk. He turned around, a dark look in his eyes.

She gave him an innocent look. " _Oops._ " He growled, standing up. He was much taller then her, even with her heels on. She walked back cautiously. He had a devilish smirk on his face.

" _Quand je t'attrapera, ca va mal se passer, ma belle,_ " he said. {When I'll catch you, it won't end well, beautiful.} She giggled, running out of the hallway.

When he followed, she hurried quicker. He grabbed her waist, pushing her against the wall. She gasped. She placed her wrists on his shoulder, smiling softly at his predatory smile. " _Peut-etre je voulais que tu m'attrapes,_ " she whispered back, her gaze locked on his parted lips. {Maybe I wanted you to catch me.} He gripped her waist, pushing his body flush against her.

She cupped his face, noticing the darkness start to leave his eyes. She brought his face down slowly, leaving a lingering kiss on his lips and she pulled back. It wasn't like they were used to, not the urgent, hungry kisses all over her neck and collarbone. He placed one hand on the wall next to her head, caging her in. He brought his lips down to hers slowly, separating his lips achingly slow. She accelerated the kiss, lacing her fingers in his golden locks and bringing him down from a more hungry kiss.

"Why do I keep interrupting you guys during a make out sesh?" Jace didn't have to look at the person to know who it was. He kept his gaze on hers, his eyes visibly darkening. He kissed her ear, whispering.

"I'll get this taken care of, _chérie._ " He stiffly stood straight, and he grabbed her waist, pulling her against him. "Brother."

"Lighten up, Jace!" His brother said enthusiastically.

"Get out of my house, Sebastian," he said dryly, clearly tired of his brother. "Just wait downstairs for a few more minutes."

"Oh, yes. I shall not forbid you from your quickie. My apologies," he responded, sarcasm dripping from his words. He walked down the stairs again. He turned back to her. He rested his forehead against hers, an intimate gesture that made her heart flutter.

"You and I, dinner tonight. I want to make it up to you." When he saw her mouth open to protest, he placed a long index finger against her lips. "No buts. Get ready for eight." He kissed her neck before disappearing behind the corner and going down the main staircase. Her heart thumped. He was asking her out on a date.

.w.W.w.

Eight o'clock rolled around quickly. After furiously fussing over a dress, she settled on an ankle length black dress, which hugged her waist. It had a leg slit, and just to drive Jace crazy, she had slipped on a garter belt. The sides of her waist were made of black lace, showing off her creamy skin. She anxiously tried to tame her hair, only to leave it rest in a nice messy bun on top of her head, showing off a hickey Jace had put on her neck. It made her look nice, and she let two straight strands of hair frame her face.

She slid on black platform strappy heels. She looked in the mirror. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small box in the reflection laying on her bed. It was a small velvet jewelry box. She opened it hesitantly. A small note covered what she was anxiously wanting to see. A single letter made her heart jump.

 _J_

She reached behind the note, finding a gold choker necklace. She slipped it around her throat. It looked perfect. She did a once over of herself in the mirror before walking out in the hallway. She descended the large staircase slowly to avoid tripping. Golden eyes darted to her. A grin played on his lips when he spotted her walking down the stairs. He looked over her, his eyes feasting on her bare skin.

He was wearing all black. Black suit, black dress shirt, black bowtie, black pants, and black shoes. He looked irresistible. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, and his bowtie hung uselessly around his neck. She walked over to him, her clothes giving her extra confidence as she strutted. She stopped in front of him. She grabbed the both ends of his bowtie and pulled on them, pulling him down.

"You look attractive as hell," she said bluntly, and she saw his body stiffen at her words. He covered it up.

"Thank you, I hear that a lot," he responded, a smug smirk on his lips. She scoffed, backing away. He grabbed her hand and twirled her around before pulling her against him. He kissed her, a quick, but patient kiss. "Kidding," he said quietly, and a small grin pulled at her lips. His sudden change of demeanor directed towards her made her stomach surge with butterflies.

He put his hand on her waist and led her out. A sleek black car waited outside, tainted windows and all. He opened the door for her, and she smiled as she slipped in.

He followed into the other door, and sat across from her, due to the space in the car. He pulled his tie off, sighing.

"Why don't you keep it on?" She asked, crossing her legs innocently, but pointing her ankle out of bit, and letting the leg slit expose her long legs. He stiffened, and she noticed the grip on his bowtie tightened, revealing his white knuckles.

"You have to say, I do look sexier without it," he said, laying back and extending his arms on both ridges of the seat.

"Perhaps," she responded casually. She placed her hands in her lap, and she saw his fingers fidget, as if itching to touch something. She pursed her lips and his gaze lowered to them. He looked out the window, biting his lip slightly.

"Enjoying your night so far, _ma belle_?"

"Quite so." She played it off calmly, but she noticed how irritated, how hot and bothered he seemed. She grinned at the thought that her playing hard to get was getting to him. He raised an eyebrow, and spread his legs out lazily. When the car came to a stop, he stepped out, and opened the door for her. He reached out a hand for her to hold, and she purposefully extended out her leg, letting the slit ride high enough to expose her lingerie. His grip tightened noticeably and he pulled her up.

"Something wrong?" She asked innocently. He picked up on it, and his jaw tightened. He slid his hand onto her hip, and pulled her against him.

"You're such a tease, Clarissa," he whispered in her ear, his voice low and husky. "You're glad we're in a restaurant, or I would bend you over any horizontal surface quick. I'm not picky," he breathed in her ear, sending shivers down her body.

She clutched his biceps. "Behave, Jace," she scolded. He smirked and they entered the restaurant. Fancy was the only word she could describe it with. Romantic, expensive, luxurious, rich, elegant. It was quiet, only the soft voices of people around the room. White table cloths covered the round tables for two, candles and roses placed on them. Waiters dressed in black and white whizzed around, serving with their white cloths hanging on their forearms. Just like in a movie, she thought. He motioned her forwards, and said his name to the waiter. His eyes opened wide, muttering 'sorry' over and over again.

Mr. Wayland had authority. The way he walked made people stare. His elegance made ladies swoon. His strong voice made people listen. And the way he kissed made Clary crazy. She brought her mind back to him, pushing away dirty thoughts. The way people looked at him when he passed by, full of surprise, fear, and jealousy. Men stole looks at her, and he gave them back dirty ones, making them stare at their plates.

The waiter brought them to their table, set up outside on the patio. It looked out on a lake, illuminated by the moon's shine. When he tried to pull out her chair for her to sit, Jace sent him the familiar _touch-her-and-I'll-cut-you_ look. The waiter dropped the chair from his grip and hurried off. Jace positioned himself behind her chair, pulling it back with ease. She sat on it, and he pushed it back like it was air.

He sat in front of me, glancing over the menu. "Hmm," he mused. He peered up from his menu to look at her. They were both silent, choosing their meals, until the waiter came back.

"Would you like something to drink to start?" He asked. Jace placed his menu on the table.

"Two glasses of your finest wine would be nice," he said. The waiter frantically scribbled it down. "I'll have a steak. Medium rare." He passed the menu to the waiter. The boy looked at her anxiously.

"I think I'll take a chicken Caesar salad, please," she responded quietly. She passed him the menu shyly, and he took it.

"Sorry? What did you want?" He asked again, tilting his head further towards her. Jace grunted.

"She said she wanted a chicken Caesar salad," he answered harshly. The waiter muttered "sorry" many times before hustling off. "The service here is unpleasant. Next time, I'll take you somewhere else." That piqued her interest.

"Next time?"

"Of course," he simply stated. She grinned a bit. "You look ravishing, tonight, Clarissa."

"I could say the same about you," she responded smoothly, placing her hands on the table and leaning forwards. "Tell me about yourself, Mr. Wayland."

He leaned back in his chair. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything," she breathed. A smirk spread on his lips.

"That's quite vague for my liking," he responded.

"You never told me about your job."

"That's a story for another night, _ma belle._ "

"Mhm."

.w.W.w.

"Still hungry?" She slid her arm through hers as they walked out. She shook her head.

"I'm not making you pay anything more," she said, and his hand moved to hold her hip. "That was at least 300 dollars."

"That's nothing compared to pleasing you," he said. He leaned towards her ear. "Especially in bed," he added, whispering. She stiffened, and she felt his smirk in his chuckle. He pulled her closer to him. They crossed a street, earning looks from men and women passing. A small ice cream parlor was settled in between two closed boutiques. He led her to it, and opened the door for her.

A group of teenage boys were settled in the corner, and some whistled as she entered. They arrived in line, and a couple of them slid behind them. One of the taller ones motioned his hand towards her butt to hit it, and Jace, still staring forwards, caught his wrist. He dug his nails in his flesh, and he let out a groan. Clary took a step forwards in line, and he turned around.

The two boys cowered backwards a bit at Jace's figure. "That's right," he said through gritted teeth. "Touch her, or even _try_ to, again, and it'll be way worse then a bruise." The other guys from the table stared at the scene. He turned back to her, and placed his hand a bit lower then before. She sucked in a breath.

They ordered a small mint cup to share. On the way out, he sent the boys a dirty look, and they all stared down at the table. Kids don't know how to behave anymore these days. They walked back, exchanging small talk and ice cream.

She giggled suddenly. He raises an eyebrow. She brought his face down, cupping his cheeks. Her thumb ran across her lips. "You got a little somethin' there." She let go, and he smirked.

"Oh, is it sexiness? I've seen it a couple of times," he said innocently. She scoffed. "What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked suddenly.

"Working for my boss," she said casually. He narrowed his eyes. "Fine, fine! Nothing, really."

"I'll show you a little something. How about that?" She nodded, a small grin playing on her lips. The car pulled up on the side of the road, and they slipped in.

.w.W.w.

"The plan isn't working, boss."

"Now, tell me why is that, Linus?"

"They're spending the night together. There's no way we can have her out of the manor, unless it's her day off. That's Saturday, and Friday night. It's too late."

"Then, fucking do something about it!"

"Y-Yes, sir. Right away."

"I'm not afraid of cutting you off right now. I'm sure many other men would be willing to take your spot. Hurry up, and get her out of the house, God damn it!"

.w.W.w.

 **A/N: I recommend listening to Fire & Desire (Drake) during this scene to get the full effect**

He took her hand, bringing her to his room. He stood behind her, sliding his hands down her curves. "I love your dress," he whispered in her ear. "But I think it would look much nicer on the floor." He kissed down her bare back, pulling the fabric from her shoulders down. "Don't you agree?"

He turned her around, kissing from her neck down. He hooked his fingers in the fabric of what remained of her dress, and pulled it down her legs. The dress fell at a pool around her feet. He set her on his desk, and she yanked off his suit. She fiddled with his buttons skillfully, popping them one by one. She pulled it off, throwing it somewhere in the room.

He bent down, and bit her lace underwear, pulling it down achingly slow. She yanked off her heels, and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them down. She grabbed his tie and put it around his neck, pulled him to his bed and pushed him down on it. Straddling him, she kissed his neck down his chest, kissing every dent of his muscles. He groaned as she slid her nails down.

She hooked her fingers in the band of his boxers, and pulled them down. His voice brought her gaze back to his. "Come here," he growled, his voice husky and raspy. She crawled her way back to him. His eyes were full of desire, affection, and need. He gripped her face and brought it down to his. Their lips touched slowly, hesitantly. She sat on his chest and he sat up with her. She wrapped her legs behind him, and her arms around his neck.

His touch was warm, almost scorching against her skin. He touched her like she was about to break, fragile, precious. She was tiny enveloped in his arms, and they took it slow. Skin against skin, body against body. His rough, calloused fingers caressed her cheek. He tilted her head back a bit, and the kiss was just as gentle. His hands moved to the small of her back, pushing her against him. Her body curved against his.

"Jace," she breathed, before they fell into the sheets. Their bodies moved slowly against each other, passionately rolling around and getting tangled into the silk fabric. He kissed every inch of her, worshipping her body. His fingers danced across her skin, making her arch her body and squirm.

"God, you're so beautiful," he muttered against her milky skin. " _Tellement belle_." {So beautiful.} She clutched his golden locks as his lips made her cry out an orchestra of lust. She bunched up the sheets on the sides, her nails digging into them.

He held her against him, caressing her every curve with love or lust. Her thoughts blurred together, the only thing on her mind was his touch. She fell into oblivion.

.w.W.w.

"Didn't your mother even tell you not to stare?" The sheets had fallen down to her hip, and her bare back was available to his eyes. She shifted, and the fabric fell onto her thighs, revealing her ass. She twisted around and brought her body against his. He twirled a piece of messy red hair around his finger, the soft texture relaxing him.

"My mother didn't bother with me," he answered, making his fingers crawl across her curves. She extended her arms, stretching. She winced, and muttered a quiet, "Ouch."

"What's up?" He asked, propping his head on his elbow, and moving the sheets down. Her eyes moved to his abs and she clearly swallowed.

"I'm sore," she muttered, rolling back to face the other way. She pulled the covers over her head. "Come back in a couple of hours."

He slid under the covers. The darkness blinded him, but he quickly fond her body. He kissed her shoulder, kissing down her waist. She squirmed. "Does it have anything to do with me?' He whispered against her skin. Her voice was covered my the sheets.

"You fucking plowed into me last night, Jace," she said, growling. He sidled up behind her, and slipped his arm under hers and moved it do her chest. He cupped her nearest breast and she sucked it a breath. "Jace," she whined. He kept kissing her neck, biting it sometimes. She twisted around and moved her body flush against him, his arousal against her entrance. She grinded against him, making him groan.

She suddenly rolled away to the very edge of his huge bed. "Take that, pervert," she mumbled. He chuckled, grabbing her waist and pulling her to him.

"Someone's grouchy today," he stated. She huffed. She curved into him, huddling into his warmth. "Oh, so, now you like me? Pff." She giggled. He messed with her hair, and kissed her head. "You need to wake up, _chérie_ ," he said gently, wrapping his arms around her waist. She moaned and snuggled closer to him.

"Are you that tired?" She nodded. "Five minutes, or I'm hauling you out myself."

He slid on jeans and a belt as he waited for her. She stayed still. She grunted in annoyance when he said five minutes had passed. He grabbed her waist and pulled her out. He slid his black dress shirt on her, buttoning a few of the bottom buttons. She looked sexy as hell in his clothes. He pulled her onto his back, and she slumped on it like a sloth.

He walked down the stairs with ease, earning looks from the bodyguard, as he was shirtless and had an almost-naked girl on his back. He brought her into the kitchen and plopped her down on one of the stools. As she smelled his omelet, her head perked up.

As she ate, he watched her. "Say, Clarissa, are you up for some fun today?"

 _Clary's dress will be posted on my pinterest for fanfiction, also eleonorejune. Feel free to check it out to see._

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

Heyo. Sorry for this chapter's length. I PROMISE that I'll have another 5K one for next week. Anyways, see you in a few days. France and Spain are calling :)

 **BUT** I might have a quick update on Fairly Local this afternoon if any of y'all want to go check it out! Xoxo

 _Drop me a review?_


	11. Drop Low

❤️My dear readers❤️,

Let me just cut this short, as **my note is at the bottom**. As always, enjoy, and be sure to leave a review!

 _Chapter songs:_

 ***** _Girls Your Age – Transviolet*_

 _*Roots – Imagine Dragons*_

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Only the plot, and the material of this story itself. Please do not plagiarize.

 **Chapter 11:**

 _Drop Low_

He simply dropped a flyer down in front of her as she sipped her orange juice. His sculpted chest rippled when he folded his arms against it, watching her set her glass down and inspect the paper. She raised her eyebrow, reading aloud.

" _You've been invited to the 100_ _th_ _Annual Chicago French Ballet! A night full of dance, drinks, and delight awaits you at the Grand Theater downtown! As always, it will be hosted Friday the 15_ _th_ _, at nine o'clock. The first round of drinks..._ " She trailed off, her eyes skimming the page for the more important information. " _We hope to see you there. Sincerely, the Chicago French Ballet Troop._ "

She set it down, resuming to drink her orange juice, and turned to him. "Jeez, you're all official and all." Sip. Sip. "That's hot." He chuckled, moving around the kitchen as he brewed his coffee. He walked back in front of her across the kitchen island, all amusement leaving his face.

"Would you like to come with me?" He asked slowly. "I mean, you can have a night off and everything, but if you don't want to... The drinks are on the house, I certainly won't let you pay anything of course, it's my treat. But, it's really your choice—" He stopped talking abruptly as she pushed herself off her stool and tip toed around the marble surface. She gave him a feather-light peck on the cheek and pulled back, a small smile on her face.

"You're rambling. You had me at the first sentence," she said, waving him off, and stood behind him. She wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning her cheek against his muscled back. She kissed it lightly, murmuring, "Plus, I would do anything to see you in a tux again."

He turned around, grabbing her waist and hoisting her up onto the counter. She let out a small gasp at the sudden movement, before slipping her index finger through the belt loops of his jeans and yanking him towards her. She stared deep into his gold eyes, admiring how his irises focused in on hers. They were so close—so close she could feel his hot, warm, coffee bean scented breath against her lips.

"Clary?" He whispered. It was the first time he had ever called her that, and _oh_ , the way it rolled of his tongue sent warm tingles in her stomach. "What are we?"

"What?" She automatically asked. She hadn't really been listening, just admiring how his lips formed every vowel of every word. She raised her gaze to his, watching as a rumble of emotions echoed in them.

"What are we? Relationship-wise?"

"I—Uh..." What _were_ they? Co-workers with a touch of naughty? "I haven't figured that out quite yet. It's complicated."

"Well, let me simplify it for you; I have feelings for you."

He simply said it like it was a fact, like it was an answer to an equation. Her eyes widened slightly, and her lips parted enough to let out a small breath.

He continued, "So tell me now, if you want this to end, because if you don't, I don't think I'll be able to stop." He whispered the last part, as if it hurt to much to say it aloud. His eyes were pained, desperation and need begging for an answer. He hung his head low, his curls falling down limply by his ears. He let out a quiet sigh, and her insides crumbled.

She reached for his cheeks, cupping his face. She brought his lips to hers, explaining how she felt in the kiss. All innocence lost, he deepened the kiss, grasping her exposed thighs. Her fingers danced to his hair, tugging on it and tilting her head backwards as his kisses became rough, more hungry. She pulled back for a second, breathless, and their eyes met. She pulled him down roughly, and his lips trailed down her jaw, to her ear, and down her neck.

His hands sneaked up her, or his, black dress shirt, his calloused palms caressing her hips and her waist. Her upper body curved into him as his hands gripped her butt, lifting her up the slightest bit as he squeezed it. Her hands slid down to his forearms as he did so, breathing out a shaky gasp as he lowered her.

His lips ghosted back up to her ear, kissing behind it. His hands started to unbutton her shirt, popping the first three buttons that exposed her cleavage. The sudden ringtone of a phone made her jump, but his mouth continued to roam her body. As she fumbled to find her phone on the counter, Jace kissed her, murmuring a low, husky, "Don't answer it," against her skin.

As she felt the cool metal at the tip of her finger tips, she wiggled her fingers, grasping it. He kissed down her chest. "Baby, they can call later," he whispered again, making her grin at what he called her. She glanced at the number calling her, only frowning as the words **UNKNOWN NUMBER** flickered on the screen. Pressing answer, she held the phone to her ear. Jace stopped, leveling his gaze at hers.

"Hello?" She asked into the speaker. The line was quiet, only a slight static on the end.

" _Are you alone?_ " A deep voice said. She furrowed her eyebrows, keeping eye contact with Jace.

"Who is this?"

The line ended as quickly as it started. The dial tone sung loudly at the other side of the phone. She put the phone down, watching as the number became **[OUT OF SERVICE]**.

"Who was it?" Jace brought her out of her reverie, making her look up at his disheveled hair, her doing.

"I don't even know." He raised an eyebrow, before kissing her cheek. "I need to take a bath and get dressed."

"Can I join?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and grinning smugly. She laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him up to his bathroom. He sat on the side of the large bath tub, turning on the faucet. He stood up, undoing his belt before he stopped. He watched as she slowly popped each of her shirt buttons, letting it drop on the floor. His eyes were stuck on her, her body, her eyes, everything. She slipped out of her underwear, and climbed the one step to the bath before turning around.

"Coming?"

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

Okay! Before you all bombard me with 'Where have you been?', I have been busy! Extremely! So, I will definitely get back to writing this month and those to come. Please just hang in there with me! As, always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, though it was cut a bit short.

 _Drop me a review?_


	12. Ballet Seats Aren't Indestructible

❤️My lovely readers❤️,

I know that I promised to be regularly active, but I haven't gotten around to doing so. I apologize endlessly, since all I had given you was barely 1.5K words to hold on to for a month(at least!). I can't explain how much it helps to have you all comment! Thank you to all the guests who reviewed.

OH! And **HOLY SMOKE.** I recently checked, and we've reached more than 17K views! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH ASJHKJSFJHS. Almost 150 followers. I can't believe this story has made it that far. Thank you guys so freakin' much.

! **ALSO**! My updating schedule is a bit off, but tell me which story you'd like me to update first, so I can prioritize.

 **-The rest of my note is at the bottom.-**

 _Chapter songs:_

 _*Got It – Marian Hill*_

 _*_ _ **Off to the Races – Lana Del Rey**_ _*_

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Only the plot, and the material of this story itself. Please do not plagiarize.

 **Chapter 12:**

 _Ballet Seats Aren't Indestructible_

She had damn well dressed up.

He couldn't stop himself from glancing at her every few minutes, to admire her. He had caught men observing her constantly as she descended from the red velvet stairs leading to the ballet opening. She was so elegant, so gracious. She smiled to all the people, introducing herself as if she was made for that. His hand was at her hip, the thin material of the dress not helping much. She leaned in to him softly, and he slowly kissed her shoulder, where the black material was not covering.

She wore a tight longsleeve black dress, and it hugged her body until her thighs, where it slipped down on the ground. A small trail followed her everywhere she walked. A long leg slit was exposed her creamy white skin, and a similar thin slit on her right shoulder descended to her mid-back.

He had protested her hair to be let down, and it cascaded on one side in luscious loops. She had Rupert Sanderson's black suede Malory pumps, and everytime she took a step and the leg slit opened, his eyes couldn't help but watch.

Waiters ran around in white dress shirts, giving out champagne to those who waited for the doors to open. When theirs came around, his eyes lingered on her for a touch too long. He sent him a glare, suddenly uncomfortable. The boy ran along, sending a nasty look at Jace as he left. The gold doors opened, and everybody slowly filed in. Taking her hand, he brought her to their balcony, right in front of the large stage. All the seats where red and gold, the royal colors.

She sat down, crossing her legs intimately. Stiffening, he tried to focus on the large auditorium, but with no avail. The slit kept going higher and higher, without her realizing. He lightly set his hand on her thigh. She laid her thin fingers above his, and he threaded them between his. He caressed her knuckles with his thumb, memorizing the soft ridges. Out of the corner of his eye, her lips spread into a small smile.

The lights dimmed, and the stage was illuminated. His eyes darted to the exits on either side, where his men were situated. Slowly, more reassured, he watched the show.

Women danced, their white costumes twirling around them with ever pirouette. Looking to his right, her eyes were full of excitement as her eyes followed their movements constantly. Her smile was brighter than the stage lights.

Around the middle, he leaned into her ear, his lips barely touching it. "I'm gonna go get us some refreshments, okay?" He breathed quietly to her. She nodded. He stood up the moment a shot rung into the air. Everybody ducked, just as yells and shouts were heard everywhere. Panic filled the auditorium, the dancers stopping and backing into the wings. Everybody had heard it, it hadn't been silenced. Fear took over all the spectators, and the momentum of the crowd pushed all to the exits.

Everybody was filtering out, and Clary's eyes were filled with fear. Grabbing her hand, he noticed a hole in the fluff of his now empty seat. Growling, he pressed the earpiece in his ear.

"What the fuck happened?"

People were rushing out, security trying to get a hold of the mob. He guided her out quickly, holding on to her tightly to avoid losing her in the crowd. A static response in her ear caught his attention.

" _We-we had everywhere covered, sir. I don't understand, s-sir._ "

"Clearly 'everywhere' was not covered," he whispered harshly. They descended the stairs quickly, Clary clutching his forearm and gathering the back of her dress. Police sirens were already being heard farther down the main street. "I want him _found,_ " he added, finishing the connection. Putting his hand on the small of her back, he pushed her outside.

Everybody was filing out the door, walking quickly on the sidewalks. They stayed still at the side of the building, the cold night air engulfing them. Without her asking, he took off his suit jacket, draping it over her shoulders. He rubbed her arms as she started to shudder.

"Are you okay?" She whispered as men and women passed by them. She was genuinely concerned, her eyes wide as they looked deep into hers. He nodded, pushing a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear.

"Of course," he said quietly. He kept glancing at the doors, waiting until his men came out. As they did, he nodded, taking her away slowly. "Let's take you home," he told her.

.w.W.w.

"See, this is what I don't understand. I've been repeating this for the last half hour. _Who the hell wasn't on duty_?" He slammed his hands on the desk, gripping it hard. His office was filled with the men, all dressed in black with ear microphones. The man in charge had a pale color to his face, almost green.

"Sir, all of our men said they were there," he muttered.

"Then, why do I count only nine?" His anger was boiling. They should have been there. She could've gotten hurt, and him assassinated. Ironic. He took a deep breath. "Let's try this again. Who here is missing?"

The agents looked around quickly. "Agent Lewis, sir."

"Who?"

"Agent Lewis, sir."

"Yes, I _heard._ I never signed this man up." The agent he was talking to suddenly looked very confused.

"But—"

"I seriously, do _not_ , want excuses." He sighed, motioning to the door. "Just find him."

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

So I know this was super short, but I'm hoping to get the next chapter by Tuesday-Wednesday maybe? I'm not sure, but I'll try my best. On another note, I started writing on Wattpad, so if you'd be interesting in checking that out, just check **my profile**. Also, my Pinterest ( **eleonorejune** ) is now active again, and I'll be posting all the pictures relating to AM there. Be sure to check it out.

! **ALSO**! I'm looking for a short story prompt to write, so if you guys have any ideas, just add them in your review!

Thank you all for reading, and I'll see you all next time!

 _Drop me a review?_


	13. Didn't We Talk About This?

❤️My lovely readers❤️,

 **I APOLOGIZE FOR THE TINY CHAPTER IN ADVANCE.**

You all have no idea how happy I was this week, getting all these reviews and follows and favorites. I freaked. The constant support you guys have for this story is amazing. And that brings us to why I have updated in less than a month's time from last chapter. _Praise me_.

I do have to add that I am still going to be busy for the next week, but I will try to squeeze in at least a chapter until then. Also, happy late Halloween! _Add in your comments what you dressed up as, if you did!_ I was lame and did frat boys with my friends. 'Oops'?

! **ALSO**! Are y'all interested in another LEMON?

 _Chapter songs:_

 _*Of the Night – Bastille*_

 _*I hate u, I love u - gnash (ft. Olivia O'Brien)*_

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Only the plot, and the material of this story itself. Please do not plagiarize.

 **Chapter 12:**

 _Didn't We Talk About This?_

He didn't talk to her after the ballet. She had stripped from the tight dress, slipping into a dark blue babydoll when she knew he wouldn't be back until she had already fallen asleep. She fingered the white lace at the hem, sitting at the vanity. She had dark circles under her eyes from stress, and her green eyes were empty without the ever sparkling ambition.

Her arms were too thin, her skin too pale. Her red hair looked fake and dry. Her chest was as flat as paper. She rubbed her hands over her face, the cold skin waking her up just a bit. It was past one, and still nothing had happened. Groaning, she put her hair up in a messy bun and left the room.

The scratchy red carpet was rough under her bare feet as she tiptoed through the second floor balcony. It was colder downstairs, if that was even possible. None of the usual security guards were stationed at the main doors and halls. Sliding her hand down the wooden railing, she padded down the grand staircase. She still hadn't gotten used to the high ceilings, the chandeliers, or the huge parlors.

She heard loud voices from Jace's office. The door was cracked open slightly, and she pushed it open a bit, holding the side of the wall. Only her right side was showing and her face, but it quickly got the attention of all the men. They seemed to be in mid-conversation, but all the shouts and harsh words were silenced by her presence.

All eyes were turned her way, their gazes running over her body like water. Several guys blushed, but she caught others pushing out their chests or adjusting their ties.

She slid her whole body in, leaning against the door frame. "When are you coming to bed, babe?" All of the eyes in the room widened, except Jace's. A thin man in the back was brave enough to whistle, and he received death glares from all around.

She lifted her foot off the ground slighty, putting it behind her other ankle. "Give me a while. I'm almost done." His voice was laced with stress and exhaustion, and it had a rough edge to it. She walked to him, and stood behind his chair. Wrapping her arms loosely around his neck, she leaned down and whispered affectionately, "But I miss you," only for him to hear. He stiffened, and everybody had leaning in just a bit to listen. She placed a feather-light kiss on his soft cheek, letting her lips linger just a bit. They were all staring at them, watching everything take place.

She let her hands trail back up to his shoulders when she stood straight. Just as she was about to walk back, he grabbed her hand, whirling her back to him. He stood, looking at all the agents.

"Work on this, boys. I want this figured out by tomorrow. We'll continue this later." They maneuvered between the wide-eyed guys, making their way to the door quickly. She walked in front of him, feeling his constant gaze burning into her back. She tiptoed up the stairs, and waited for him at the top.

Once in his room, he sat on the foot of the bed, rubbing his hands over his face. He groaned and sighed at the end.

"I'm sorry, baby." He dropped his hands and his head drooped. She held his hands softly, her touch almost ghostly. He touched her like she was glass, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles slowly. He suddenly grabbed her waist and stood up, yanking her into a bear hug. She slid her arms around his neck, shutting her eyes tightly. He squeezed her tighter, his warmth flowing all over her body. "I'm so sorry," he mumbled into the crook of her neck.

"For what?" Her voice was shaky and uneven, a bundle of nerves ready to snap.

"I just want to apologize in advance." She shut her eyes again, hoping to shut out the whole world. The people wanting to kill him, the worries of their relationship, the nightmares of her parents.

All of it.

And just stay here, with him. Here.

He gripped her babydoll, bundling the fabric in his fist. It was as if he was holding on to her, afraid she'd leave.

He pulled her onto his bed, kicking off his shoes before doing so. He laid over her, holding himself up with his arms. Her red hair had fanned out like a wide red halo around her head, declaring that she was indeed angelic. His gold eyes looked over her, admiring her eyes. Her hands timidly went to his white button up dress shirt, simply laying them there innocently. He let out a shallow breath, the heat tickling her lips.

Her fingers popped his buttons slowly, patiently revealing the shade of gold she adored the most. Once it was completely opened, the two sides hung as her fingers traced over his ripped abdomen, memorizing the bumps like the back of her hand.

She flipped them, her hair like red velvet curtains around her face. The lust in his eyes had become promise, and the way he held her made her shudder. His fingers skimmed the outside of her thighs, the heat of his palm seeming to sizzle against her skin.

They didn't count the time, or the thundering beats in their hearts. He sat up, and she slid into his lap lightly. Her legs were bent on either side of him, and he his hands travelled up to her hips, holding them. She lifted herself up as his lips touched hers, and her head was tilted down as they kissed. His arms bundled her up, pulling her even closer, if that was possible.

A soft moan drifted out of her lips, their kisses becoming more hungry and passionate. She curved into him, sitting back down. They separated, their eyes catching eachother right before they dove back in. Her head tilted back as his lips traveled down to their usual trail, peppering bites all over her neck. She groaned as teeth tugged at her skin, definitely leaving a mark.

They separated, just looking at each other. She was out of breath, her fingers tangled in his golden locks. Her green eyes were big and open, occasionally drifting to his lips.

"I love you."

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

Sorry it was so short, but I really wanted to slip a chapter into that.

! **ALSO**! I forgot to post my Wattpad on my profile, but it's there now. Be sure to check it out, I'm still writing the stories before posting.

Anyways, thank you all for reading, and I adore all your reviews and follows. Hopefully, I'll update soon. Until next time, love you guys!

 _Drop me a review?_


	14. A Word or Two

❤️Hey Loves❤️,

It's me again. After a loooong break of at least a few months, I have decided to resume my stories here & on Wattpad. Check my profile for more information.

My imagination has been all over the place. One day I'm desperate and scrambling for a piece of paper to write on, the next day my mind is blank. It's been extremely hard to be in school with a job and do this on the side. I love it, really, but it's not always easy. My life has been messy. Along with what's been happening in the US and in the world lately, it's hard to keep track of everything. One can only do so much. Anyways, Tonight, as of March 22nd, I will be writing as much as I can each and every day. Expect a load of chapters in the next month.

I recently re-read my old chapters and realized how bad some of them actually are. Those will also be edited.

I also want to start something new and fresh, so if you guys have anything to suggest, please tell me! I love you guys' ideas.

 **Tl;dr** I'm currently writing up some new chapters for _Assassin and the Maid_ and _Fairly Local_. If you guys want me to write anything else, I'm willing.

Thanks and love you,

eleonorejune.


	15. Lying Doesn't Get You Anywhere

❤️My lovely readers❤️,

I know I didn't upload for a month when I said that I would. I get that. But saying _UPLOAD!,_ does not encourage me at all. I get that it comes from a nice thought, but you could say it differently, like _please upload when you can_ , which is what a majority of you all do, don't get me wrong. I love you all so much and appreciate the support. As this story achieved 200+ followers(even if it's a small number), I started feeling increasing pressure on me to update and continue the story. But sometimes writing doesn't feel as good and relaxing as it used to be. I'M **NOT** PUTTING ANY OF YOU AT FAULT. Lots of you show so much love and I am SO thankful for that.

Rant Summary: I can't always consistently upload. I appreciate your reviews, but please keep in mind 1) I'm not paid for this—It is not my job and I choose to do this willingly. I HAVE a job that occupies my time as well. 2) **I don't pop out chapters out of my tush daily**. I spend at least a few hours on ~500 words. Imagine that times 10 for a long chapter.

I love yall tho so keep it going

 _Chapter Song : Yayo — Lana del Rey_

 **Disclaimer** : I do not own the Mortal Instruments. Only the plot, and the material of this story itself. Please do not plagiarize.

 **Chapter 12:**

 _Lying Doesn't Get You Anywhere_

 _ **ABC NEWS REPORT**_

 _ **"Just a few hours ago, at the Grand Theater in downtown Chicago, a shooting took place. Witnesses say only two shots were fired. Information about who they were shot at is currently disclosed. Police have yet to find the suspect, as a whole crowd of people flooded out of the theater before they could be identified. The police force is on it right at this moment. No one seemed to be hurt, witnesses say. The ballet show stopped right after the shots were taken. A security sweep is happening right now.**_

 _ **ABC News, we'll be back and we'll keep you posted after the break."**_

—

His golden and brown eyes froze.

"What?" He uttered. Her gaze dropped. The red hair around her face became a curtain, and her head drooped.

"I love you," she murmured. She seemed ashamed, with her cheeks are red.

He slid a finger under her chin, lifting her head and making her look at him. "Say it again," he whispered, and his hand cupped her face. He could feel her small breaths against his lips.

"I—I love you." She swallowed. Before she could say something else, he let his lips take over hers, and she melted in with him. She felt smaller tonight, more vulnerable. Her thin fingers grabbed his biceps, snaking all the way up his shoulders to around his neck. Her touch was cold, but it made way to a path of goosebumps up his arm.

He grabbed one of her cold hands, running his thumb over her knuckles. He kissed the back of it lightly. Her lips opened the slightest bit, and she looked beautiful.

She kissed his neck and collarbone, and up to his jaw. He let out a breath, tilting his head back a little.

"You're driving me crazy, babe," he murmured. She dragged a finger down his chest slowly, torturing him. His muscles became rigid, and he grabbed her waist, pushing down on the bed. She had a flirty smile on her face, her red lips turned into a naughty grin.

She still had her baby doll on, and he wanted to change that.

He grabbed her babydoll, and lifted it over her head. She giggled, letting him slide it off. His rough palms slid over her warm stomach, cupping her breast lightly. His thumb ran over her nipple slowly, and she bit her lip.

He went lower, kissing down to her pelvis area. He took the lace material of her underwear between his teeth, pulling it off. With her feet, she kicked it off to somewhere in the dim room. His hands slid up her legs to her thighs.

Slowly, he rubbed her clit, making her squirm before him. He teased her, before sliding two fingers into her. She gasped quietly, arching her back slightly. Keeping them in, he kissed her stomach, and made a trail to her breasts. His tongue swi—

"Mr. Wayland—" the man suddenly stopped as he pushed the door open. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. "Oh, my God, I am so sorry, sir, I'm so sorry, but we need you right now," he muttered anxiously outside the door.

"Come back later," he rasped, kissing up her neck.

"Jace, I think it might be urgent," Clarissa said as she lifted his head so he could look at her.

"Not as urgent as this, last time I checked."

"Baby.."

He sighed, sitting back up. He grabbed her light blush pink floor length silk robe and gave it to her. As he stood up, he leaned over, kissed the top of her head. "You should sleep, don't worry about me," he murmured in a husky voice. He put on the button up he had been wearing before.

He walked to the door, slipping outside into the hallway. He stared the poor boy down, who was starting to look _green._

"What?" Jace barked as the man stared at his shirt. He looked down, only to notice the first few buttons had either been popped or ripped off. He could see faint scratch marks on his chest.

He smirked. "Yes?"

—

"Talk."

"I didn't know I was on duty there. I was here."

"You address me as _sir._ "

"Yes, sir. I was simply protecting the prisoner while you were gone."

"So you did know we were gone?" Jace reclined in his chair, watching the man lie straight to his face. It was approaching 3 AM and all he wanted to do was get back to his girl.

"No, I just thought it was weird that nobody was here." The bodyguard near the door glared at him. "Sir."

Jace sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I really do not like being lied to, Agent Lewis." He paused. "You should never have a career in Poker, by the way."

He picked up a folder that was laying on his pristine wood desk. He opened it, propping his feet up on it. He read over a few papers and flipped through the pages.

"How did you actually get accepted to work here, _Simon_? I'd like to hear your story."

"I sent in my application and one of your men must have let me in."

"See that's the thing. We don't _do_ applications."

The boy squirmed in his seat. Jace's menacing voice cut through the silence in the room.

"Let's cut to the chase, shall we? I have other business to take care of. Or if you don't feel like it, we can bring you downstairs and conduct this investigation _my_ way."

At the comment, Lewis visibly shuddered. "Fine."

"Go on, then."

"I know this girl, Kaelie." At his first few words, Jace stiffened. "She helped me obtain papers from other agents, and I copied the signature onto my fake acceptance sheet."

"Forgery. Not too shabby. If you hadn't just infiltrated my system, I would've congratulated you," Jace commented.

"...Thank you?"

"I admire your honesty," Wayland started. He nodded to the bodyguard at the door. At that motion, he grabbed Lewis, yanking him from the chair. The boy struggled, an unbelievable expression on his face.

"I told you everything!" He protested, trying to get out of his handcuffs.

"Bring him downstairs," he told the guard, ignoring the man in distress. He waved at him as he stood up, giving him a sarcastic smile. "Toodles."

—

 _The Next Morning..._

"We found this in his pocket." The agent presented an old picture. A man with a huge smile on his face had his arm around a tall brunette. He was dressed in a tux. The girl, wearing a very puffy white dress and a pulled-back veil, had a matching expression. She was holding a little girl's hand, whose features matched both of theirs. She couldn't have been more than five years old. The quality was very bad, and the picture was quite dirty.

He flipped the photograph, examining a few words written in messy handwriting.

" _The Newly Married Mrs. And Mr. Lewis and their little Annabelle! Congratulations from the family!_ " The date was stamped **2013**.

"I looked him up, though. It said he had no family... Probably just a mistake on Facebook."

 **~FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**

[ **the end of this chapter was very important** ]

ALSO HI EVERYONE I'M SORRY I DIDN'T UPLOAD BEFORE I FELL BACK INTO BAD HABITS OF NOT CONSISTENTLY UPLOADING! I know this was very short but I really wanted to upload this before the end of the week(which still didn't happen :/).

I love you guys so much


	16. Bye, Jace

. . .

 **Chapter 13:**

 _Bye, Jace_

When she woke up, he wasn't in bed. Light was streaming in from the large windows, shining in her eyes. Sighing, she stood up and wrapped a _very_ short silk robe around her naked figure. It barely covered her backside. She slid on a black thong that had been discarded on the floor. She passed a hand through her long red hair, making sure there were no tangles.

She walked out of the room barefoot, the carpet soft against her feet. As she went down the stairwell, the bodyguards lining it tried to keep their gazes straight, but she felt several eyes lingering on her as she descended.

She strolled into the dining room, where Jace sat, speaking to what seemed to be two businessmen. When they heard her come in, all their eyes were stuck on her. The two guests stammered, their mouths wide open. Jace, on the other hand, smirked. His eyes darkened, a dark gleam shining in them. The look he was giving her promised a lot for later.

She smiled at him, her cheeks becoming rosy. Frankly, she missed him. It seemed that all they did together was _sex_.

Nothing more than that. Sex whenever _he_ wanted, sex whenever _he_ could. She'd fallen for him in simply months with no reason. Of course, it was moving too quickly, she knew that. But she felt completely enthralled by the man in front of her, so much that he was capturing her heart.

Feeling this way was a first. With other men, it was short-lived. Nothing was deep, but it seemed like it with him. Damn, she was a woman. Why was she thinking like this was a crush? This wasn't middle school. Why did she feel like she could empty her soul out to him when all they'd done was fuck?

Their relationship was built on lust. And on lust only.

She took a mug from the table and filled in with coffee before returning to the table. As she passed by Jace, he grabbed her hand. He grinned up at her, urging her to stay. The simple attention from him made her heart flutter.

She sat on the thick arm rest of his bulky chair, her robe riding higher on her thighs.

"Clarissa, these are my. . . _associates_ , John and Michael." His hand moved to her thigh, drawing small circles with his rough fingers. "This is Clarissa." They nodded, trying to distract themselves with the folders in their hands.

Jace leaned into her ear, saying, "I'll be finished in a few hours. Why don't you go back upstairs and I'll see you then?"

Her heart dropped.

She tried to muster all her confidence. "Okay." She smiled flirtatiously at him, but it felt fake. She knew that she'd hole up in that prison of a room upstairs for next several hours, bored out of her mind. Why couldn't she say no to him?

. . .

She sat on her bed, feeling him kiss down her neck, but not moving.

"You okay, baby?" He muttered against her neck. He pulled back, actually looking at her for the first time today. "You're not really in the mood."

She stared at her hands, shy. She was strong. Not shy. Get it together.

She took a deep breath in. "I feel I'm your toy. You play with me whenever you want. You play with my feelings whenever you want."

He pulled back, his brows drawn. "What do you mean?"

"Last night? It's like you were trying to shut me up. I told you that I loved you and that scared you. I know you didn't have to say it back, but it felt like you wanted to change the subject." She was rambling now. The more she spoke, the more he looked utterly confused. "It's always 'wait.' I'm always waiting for you. I feel like I'm constantly at your disposition. All you want from me is sex. I'm not a whore. I have feelings, you know, not just a vagina." She let out a loud breath.

Fuck. She had overreacted. Her mind raced, terribly terrified of what he would say back.

"This is ridiculous." He looked at her and uttered those words like she was insane.

She looked away, muttering, "I know work is your priority but you could at least act like I'm here, waiting for you like always."

"I had no idea," he spoke quietly.

"Yeah, well, whatever, it doesn't matter." She stood up for a second before he grabbed her waist. He stood up too, both face to face.

"Talk to me, baby."

She looked at the ground, before stammering, "I just thought we were more than this. I idolize you so damn much that I'm too obsessed with you to actually look at us."

"Clarissa, look at me," he urged, lifting her chin so that their gazes would connect. His expression was worried, and his hand was shaking, "You are _not_ a whore to me. You are a beautiful woman that amazes me more and more every day. I just, my work is difficult, stressful. You help me relieve the stress accumulating on my shoulders."

She jerked out of their embrace. "So, now I'm a stress-reliever? God. I just need a break." She made a move to walk out before he cried, "Wait!"

She turned around to look at him, seeing his devastating expression. Realization set in.

Before her was not a strong cunning man controlling an empire of murder, but a man slowly breaking, laden with stress, piles of work, and the burden of his crimes. The dark circles under his eyes and the mess of hair on top of his head showed the effect of his life on his appearance. His eyes were filled with fear and panic.

He ran both of his hands down his face, sighing.

"Please," he croaked. "I'm so sorry." He sat on the bed, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. "I fucked up bad, baby. I fucked up." His deep voice broke.

She had a sense of deja-vu in her head.

"I'm stupid for doing this now," he continued. "I shouldn't have waited until I was close to losing you. God, I'm so, so stupid. Please just stay."

She stayed where she was, not moving. Suddenly, she grabbed her coat off the back of her chair and took her purse.

"Bye, Jace."

 **~ALL FEEDBACK IS WELCOMED~**


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